The Long Night that was Promised
by Dakkaman777
Summary: Rewrite of Season 8! The Long Night approaches and the Dead come with it. Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen must band the forces of the living together or the hordes of death with devour them all. Will they succeed or fail? Who will sit on the Iron Throne? A Child of Old Valyria or the icy Lord of Death himself? Rated M for all the obvious reasons.
1. Royal Arrival

**WELL…D&D fucked us HARD didn't they? All of that character development and foreshadowing, all those years of growing attached to these characters and getting invested in the storyline and lore, all the dedication to the story and the people that made it happen…all killed in a single episode…*slow clap*I don't know about you guys, but I feel like those fuckers just stabbed us all in the back, Bittersweet ending my Arse! **

**Just so you know where I stand on Season 8**

**Episode 1 – Ok, a bit of filler, not too bad, some nice moments here and there**

**Episode 2 – Oooh, I feel on edge, I hope they really pull out their A-Game on making what is coming work**

**Episode 3 – Uh…who the fuck planned this strategy? Why did Arya kill the Night King? You know what? Doesn't matter, maybe the NK isn't really dead, maybe the next 3 episodes will really pull out and give us some closure, we are only halfway through after all.**

**Episode 4 – Ok, all this Dany hate is pissing me off, why is Rheagal Dead? Why did they kill Missandei? WHY DIDN'T JON EVEN SAY GOODBYE TO GHOST! They have 1 chance to save this and they had better fucking do it!**

**Episode 5 – I hope D&D get caught in a fucking car crash. There is no way they can save this series with how shite their writing has been…I fucking hope they never work again.**

**EPISODE 6 – DON'T CARE! As far as I'm concerned GoT was cancelled after Season 7.**

**Just for reference I began writing this after the release of Season 8 episode 4 so a few of the ideas in here will be lifted from the episodes…BUT I'M MAKING CHANGES OK! I've got to in order to regain some sanity and goddam closure! **

**I know George himself hates Fan Fiction, but when writers like D&D fuck up this badly, I have to take a stand and say FUCK IT! I'm not doing this for validation or views…I'm doing this for myself, I need this goddam closure, and no one is going to fucking stop me. You guys want to join me? Good, then let's fucking go.**

**Chapter 1: Royal Arrival**

The sounds of heavy marching filled the air as white droplets of snow danced downwards, the people of Winter town all stood in awe at the sight before them. Men, women and children of all ages stood with eyes wide and mouths agape as legions of men, covered head to toe in pitch black armour marched in perfect unison through the street.

The crunching of snow and ice beneath their feet was drowned out by loud orders shouted in High Valyrian, the sound of shield and spear rattling as their wielders advanced on the castle in the snowy distance.

A little boy climbed a nearby tree to get a better view of the approaching army. He was not disappointed by the vast legions of Unsullied that seemed to stretch into the distance, their numbers in the thousands. Behind them, larger numbers of men on horseback, whooping and screeching as their twirled their arakhs in the air.

It was a sight that would forever be ingrained in the memory of the North for eons.

The Arrival of the Last Dragons.

If they survived the Night that was closely approaching.

A girl smiled in the crowd at the sight of the boy gazing into the distance. This girl, was Arya Stark, one of the last three surviving children of Lord Eddard Stark. Dressed in her northern leathers, with her dagger and needle hidden beneath a cloak she blended right into the crowd.

It was quite easy for No one to disappear into a crowd of faces.

The young Stark had to admit she was very impressed at the sight of the approaching army, the perfect timing of the Unsullied march made them seem like a single being as opposed to an army of thousands. It must have taken an insane life of intense training for so many men to be forged into such disciplined soldiers.

As Arya knew from experience, people were very much like metal. Beat them, shape them, and put them through hell, and they can accomplish anything.

Just as the thought left her mind, Arya caught the sight of the person she was waiting for. Astride a large black stallion rode a Northern King, cloaked in wolf fur, his cuirass bearing the Sigil of the Stark Direwolf, a beautiful yet simple longsword sheathed at the side of his horse, his long raven locks were pinned back now, and his broody face adorned with scars from battles past.

Jon had changed a lot from the last time Arya had seen him. He looked so much like father it was unreal, but what also surprised the young Stark was her Brother's traveling companion.

Riding astride a silver haired mare, was perhaps one of the most beautiful women Arya had ever laid eyes upon. Long silver locks, tied in intricate and queenly braids, lilac eyes that had seen horror first hand, dressed in the finest white fur coat with hints of Targaryen red beneath.

Daenerys Targaryen, The Dragon Queen herself, she certainly looked the part.

Arya had never thought in all those years apart from her family, that Jon would ever amount to anything higher than another black clad defender of the wall. Lord Commander was the highest station she thought possible for her brother.

He had certainly proved her wrong, a regal and battle tested warrior king, flanked by legions of the greatest soldiers in the world, riding side by side with perhaps the most beautiful woman in the world.

He had come a long way from being the bastard of Winterfell.

Jon didn't notice Arya as he rode past, her faceless man training paying off. Arya didn't want her first encounter with her brother to be public, their sibling love was always private between the two of them.

But just as Arya was about to leave, she saw two faces emerge from the crowd, two faces that she did not expect to see here in the North of all places. The first face, half burned and hairy, wearing a worn-out leather vest, a far cry from the rusted and busted plate mail and gambeson he wore last she saw him.

Sandor Clegane, The Hound. A man that Arya had left for dead.

The young woman didn't have time to let this revelation sink in as she noticed the face of the man riding behind the Hound.

The other man, was a face she had longed to see

Another man she thought dead, Gendry Waters, the bastard son of Robert Baratheon. He had certainly aged well, no longer was he that young scraggily haired blacksmith boy, he had become a man.

Arya found herself smiling, happy to see him alive and well, and not having been burned at the stake by the red woman that abducted him. Many emotions ran through Arya's head in that moment of seeing two men that helped her so much on her journeys, both thought dead only to turn up alive.

The young she-wolf turned and disappeared into the crowd, as was her way these days. She would meet back up with her friends both old and new when it suited her.

When they had time to settle in.

* * *

The cold air didn't agree with Missandei; her entire life she had lived in the warmest places in the world, Naath, Astapor, Mereen, to name a few. She had never even seen snow before coming to Westeros; and while it looked beautiful it did not agree with her in the slightest.

But here; sat opposite Lord Tyrion and wrapped in a thick fur cloak, Missandei of Naath was having a hard time adapting to the Northern climate. Tyrion was dressed well for the climate; being a Westerosi he was much more used to colder climates than the Linguist, that and his beard certainly helped keep his face warm.

"I would say you get used to the North after a while, but unfortunately you either die of the cold, or become like everyone else here" Tyrion said with a glance out of the carriage and at the gathered Northerners outside.

"It would certainly explain why Lord Snow is exceptional at brooding" Missandei smiled behind the bundled-up cloak. Tyrion raised a brow in response and cracked a smile.

"I'm beginning to think my jokes are rubbing off on you" Tyrion smiled; glad that the weather wasn't getting to Missandei as badly as he thought.

The Translator looked out at the crowds of people giving her ugly glances; many of them looked at her with eyes full of mistrust. The people here looked very different to what she was used to; they looked rough, ragged, like they had been through hell; that misery was all that they knew. The looks of pain she saw in many of them certainly remined her of the slaves of Essos.

Missandei didn't want to succumb to the same hatred that the Northerners succumbed to, the hatred of Others; the hatred of those that were different. She wanted to believe these people could be good; that all they had was a shit deal in life; a deal that her Queen could make better in time.

In a way these people were slaves to the wheel that Daenerys so wanted to break; they had been trampled on; crushed; so, it was no surprise that they looked the way they did.

"They'll come around, just give them time" Tyrion said as he noticed Missandei looking out at the crowd.

* * *

Daenerys could feel the eyes penetrating her, every single set of northern eyes speaking a thousand words 'What are you doing here?' 'Foreign invader' 'Daughter of the mad king' 'Dragon Whore' she could practically hear the hissing as she entered the snake pit. She wasn't expecting a great welcome, but from what Jon had told her, she was expecting much worse.

She expected closed gates, rotten fruit being flung at her, crowds of peasants baying for blood.

She could withstand dirty glances and hateful eyes.

"I warned you…Northerners don't much trust outsiders" Jon spoke from the back of his stallion.

"Then I'll make it my business to change that" Dany replied with a smile.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be the first impossible thing you've done" Jon smiled back. The warmth in his gaze was enough to drive away the cold and bitter looks of the Northerners.

A loud screech filled the air, followed by a mighty flap of wings as Drogon flew down from the clouds. The Northerners went into a panic, a colossal black Dragon like Drogon was not a sight that would inspire hope in people that knew Dragons as mighty engines of war and destruction.

That was just another thing she was going to have to change.

* * *

Jon thought it best for him to be the first to enter the gates of Winterfell, though he was welcoming Daenerys like the guest she was, he also wanted to reassure his family that he was alive and well. Plus, he thought it better to prepare them for the arrival of his Queen.

But as Jon rode through the gates, he saw him, he saw the little brother he thought he had lost. The little brother that was deep in a coma the last he saw him. He had definitely changed, he looked older but there was no mistaking it, it was Bran.

Jon quickly and carefully dismounted his horse and rushed over to the crippled boy. instantly throwing his arms around him and planting a firm kiss against his forehead.

"Look at you…You're a man" Jon smiled, the fog of his breath emerging as he was filled with joy.

"Almost" Bran replied, not a hint of emotion on his face. Only then did Jon notice his eyes, they were not the eyes of a joyful little boy; nor were they the eyes of a grown man. Bran didn't even seem to be surprised at Jon's return or at how he had changed.

Whatever had happened to Bran North of the Wall, it had left him changed forever.

Jon quickly greeted Sansa; embracing his sister in a warm hug, but even then, he could feel that both her eyes and her attention were not on him, they were fixed upon the Silver haired woman standing a few feet away.

"Where is Arya?" he asked, noticing the absence of his favourite sibling.

"Lurking somewhere" she replied, not taking her eyes off of Daenerys for even an instant.

Jon could already see where the trouble would be arriving from, ever since he had bent the knee to Dany; he knew that Sansa would be the first to be up in arms about it. He was not looking forward to the inevitable talk that was on its way.

Just as the thought crossed his mind; Jon turned to see Daenerys approaching, Ser Jorah dutifully standing by her side as she did.

"Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen…" Jon introduced the Queen to Sansa, already he could see Lyanna Mormont and Lord Royce of the Vale look at her with looks of contempt and suspicion.

"…my sister, Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell" Jon introduced his sister.

"Thank you for welcoming us into your home Lady Stark. The North is as beautiful as your brother claimed, as are you" Daenerys smiled; trying to be as friendly and courteous as possible.

She didn't want to see like an invader, she came here to save the North; not burn it down.

"…Winterfell is yours…your Grace" Sansa replied after a pregnant pause. Both Dany and Jon could feel the contempt seething off of Sansa, anyone with eyes could see she was not happy.

"I think it best we all get inside; it's been a long journey and we could all benefit from some rest" Jon suggested.

"Rest can come later Lord Snow; we came here to plan the defence of Winterfell and the North; I would hate for all the Northern Lords and Ladies to have gathered simply to see me off to bed" Daenerys replied with a smirk so slight only Jon detected it.

"Very well your grace, the main hall is this way" Jon directed. Dany following, closely followed by her ever-protective Knight, Ser Jorah.

* * *

The silence of the gathered Northern Lords was not something Dany or Jon were looking forward to. Both the Dragon Queen and Wolf Lord knew that the Northerners would be resentful for Jon relinquishing his title as King in the North; especially to a Southern Queen that was the daughter of the Mad King. But nethertheless, they seemed to be acting as respectful as they could.

Like it or not; Dany was their guest, and not a single Lord or Lady present would be accused of not giving their guest the decency they deserved, especially after they had been given the traditional Guest rights of the North.

Lord Glover, Lord Manderly, Lord Cerwyn, Lady Mormont, Lord Umber and Lady Karstark were all present. The lesser Northern lords had also gathered, as had a representative of the few Free Folk stationed at the castle. Lord Royce of the Vale also sat nearby, giving cautionary glances to Sansa in regards to the Dragon Queen.

Sat at the head of the table was Jon, to his right was his sister Sansa, to his left Queen Daenerys. Tyrion sat closely near the end, as Missandei and Grey Worm stood to attention nearby, flanked by Ser Jorah, keeping a watchful eye on his Queen.

Varys unfortunately was not present; Daenerys saw it fit for him to stay and manage Dragonstone in their absence. Varys was not a mind for warfare and Tyrion made a point that he would be piss poor in a legitimate fight, so Daenerys commanded him to do what he did best; be a master of whispers and find a way to bring Cersei down from within.

Daenerys had to admit; Tyrion was right when he said it was dreary in the North. The people were not well kept, they looked dirty, constantly fighting the cold, misery constantly biting them in all ways. But this was not as bad as she thought, to an outsider the Dothraki would seem like brutish savages, but from experience Dany knew them as powerful and mighty warriors.

She knew; deep down that the Northmen would share that much with them, so she would give them a chance.

"We named you King in the North, Jon Snow. Yet you return to us a mere Lord, a Warden, we placed our faith in you; and you repay us by submitting to a foreign ruler" Lord Glover spoke out first, as was his way.

Many of the other Northern Lords banged their fists against the wooden tables set up around them. But when Jon stood from his seat all went quiet; he may not have been the King in the North anymore; but he still commanded their respect with his presence.

"I think you have forgotten my reasons for leaving Winterfell in the first place, Lord Glover. I left the North to bring allies for the coming war; and Queen Daenerys saw fit to supply us with two armies, two large dragons and all the Dragonglass we will need for the war" Jon replied.

"What of provisions? Do not mistake me, we are thankful for the assistance, but last we counted we had enough food stocked to last us through winter, but I didn't take into account the Dothraki, Unsullied and two large Dragons…how do you expect us to feed them all?" Sansa asked.

"Before making the journey North we emptied our larders at Dragonstone. Along with provisions supplied from the Bay of Dragons we have enough food to feed both our armies and help in the feeding of the Northern forces" Tyrion recited. He gave himself an internal pat on the back for planning ahead, it would be monumentally foolish to prepare for a war without the proper provisions.

Daenerys gave her hand a small nod of thanks, Tyrion had his blunders recently but this small victory was noted by his Queen.

"We still have yet to see the army you tell us is on its way. Childhood stories of White Walkers, Pale Spiders and Giants aren't enough to sway us from your decision, Jon Snow" Lord Manderly stood up, voicing his opinion.

"A Giant died retaking the very castle you stand in, Lord Manderly. A Direwolf roams these very halls and there are currently two Dragons circling the skies above us this very moment, are you saying you have trouble with White Walkers after seeing all of this?" Sansa replied, taking her brother's side. Lord Manderly quickly realizing his blunder and sitting back down.

"My Brother is no liar, if he says the Army of the Dead is real; then we must take his word" Sansa added, she knew Jon was as far from a liar as a man could get, and she believed him about his stories of what lurked behind the wall.

"My Lords" Daenerys stood up, gaining the immediate attention of everyone gathered. With her flowing white fur coat and gleaming silver hair; she seemed to illuminate the very room.

"I have flown North of the Wall, before I did; I thought as you do; that Lord Snow's stories of White Walkers and an army of the dead were nought but that…stories. But I saw them with my own eyes, they are real; I reigned Dragon fire upon fields of them and it did nothing to thin their numbers…" Daenerys remembered the moment she heard that deathly screech from Viserion, that cry for a mother that could not help him, and it filled her with a fierce resolve.

"…When I came to Westeros, I had three Dragons, now I have two. The Night King himself felled my youngest son with a spear of ice, after that he nearly claimed my life, along with the lives of Lord Snow and the brave men that followed him on his mission" Daenerys spoke with confidence and grace, ever the Queen.

"With respect, Your Grace. We do not take stock in the opinions of Southerners here; your father saw to that the day he murdered Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon in his throne room. For all we know you are the same as him, and you have found a way into the North by playing to Lord Snow's fantasies of an army of dead men…" Lord Glover began until…

*BANG!*

Jon slammed his fist into the table in front of him; any harder and there would be a hole where his fist had met wood. A look of fury was burning in his eyes; a look not many got to see and live, in that moment the Bastard of Winterfell ceased to exist, and in his place stood a ferocious Wolf King with the fire of a Dragon that Balerion the Dread himself would have feared.

"Lord Glover, with respect to your house…I will speak frankly as you have done with me. Queen Daenerys came North of the Wall because of a plan concocted by myself to prove the existence of the Army of the Dead to the Lannisters. During this mission we lost many, one Thoros of Myr, many brave men of the Free Folk and Queen Daenerys' dragon, Viserion. I do not take the sacrifices likely, and if you insinuate that I am making these stories up one more time I will make you regret it" Jon spoke with all the fire of a battle-hardened Commander.

Lord Glover was visibly shaken by the ferociousness of Jon's reply.

"Queen Daenerys didn't trust me when I first came to her on Dragonstone; and why should she? She had about as much reason to trust my word as any stranger that had never set foot in Westeros, she could have easily executed me for treason or burned me alive but she didn't, instead she allowed us to mine the Dragonglass and make weapons from it. She didn't have to come to our rescue beyond the wall, she came not because it would further her claim, she came because it was the right thing to do. She came North with her armies and her Dragons because it was the right thing to do…" Jon continued, fire in his voice.

Dany couldn't help but stare in awe at the man to her right; all her life she had heard stories of fierce warrior kings of legend, but after seeing the world with her own two eyes she thought them false. It was only in seeing Jon speak with such fire and passion, that she knew she given her heart to the right man.

"And Just so we are perfectly clear Lord Glover, if we make it out of this war alive, it will be because Queen Daenerys Targaryen and her armies made it so. And in case any of you have forgotten; the real enemy vastly outnumbers us, they don't feel fear or pity, remorse nor hunger, they do not thirst, they do not sleep and they will absolutely not stop until every living thing in this world is a part of their army" Jon announced quite clearly with power in his voice.

If Dany didn't know any better; she would say he were a dragon with how fiery his reply was.

Lord Glover seemed shocked with the passion Jon used in his little speech, he spoke of the same things he usually talked about but without the dry tiredness of his Northern drawl. He sounded more like a king in that little speech than he ever had before.

A fire had awoken within Jon Snow, a fire he didn't know he had.

"The words of House Stark have always been 'Winter is coming', we Northerners know better than anyone; but make no mistake my Lords, Winter is here and the Dead come with it. We cannot afford to let petty differences divide us any longer. Northerners, Southerners, Westerosi, Essosi, Free Folk, Citizens of the Vale, Stark, Lannister, Targaryen, it doesn't matter what we are…all that matters is that we are all alive…and that makes the Dead our true enemy"

The silence in the main hall was so tense you could hear a pin drop. Lord Glover slowly but surely sat down, his tense posture speaking volumes of how badly his king had silenced him.

Davos had a grin plastered across his face, bursting to the brim with pride in the man he considered another son.

"Lord Snow" Lady Lyanna Mormont stood up, even though she was barely a child she still commanded the respect of a Northern Lady.

"When we named you King in the North; we swore never to bend the knee to a Southern Ruler again" Lyanna was about to continue until Daenerys interrupted.

"Forgive me, My Lady, for we haven't been introduced" Daenerys asked as politely as she could.

"Lyanna of House Mormont, your Grace" she replied quickly without a stutter.

"Mormont…I owe your house a great debt my lady. Your Cousin Jorah has been a most steadfast protector of mine for many years" Daenerys nodded with a gentle smile.

"Cousin Jorah was banished from the North long ago by Ned Stark, he sold men into slavery and brought shame upon our house" Lyanna replied, eyeing Jorah closely as she spoke.

"I am well aware of that, Lady Mormont. But, in the years I have known your cousin he has been naught but an honourable knight, a loyal advisor and a trusted friend. I only hope you can find it within yourself to give him a second chance" Daenerys replied.

"Now please, speak your mind" Daenerys asked, folding her hands in front of her.

"I do not know you, your Grace. None of us do, with the exception of Lord Snow. We have not had a good history of rulers in our time, your father was a madman, King Robert was a drunken whoremonger, Joffrey was pure evil, Tommen was a weak little boy and Cersei…if the rumours are true; fits the pattern. How are we to believe you are any different than any of them?" Lyanna asked.

The questions truck true, the She-bear was one to be reckoned with as Dany had found out. Jon had warned her; as did Jorah that Lyanna was a spitfire. A small part inside Dany whispered 'I like this girl' and Jon gave her a glance that practically said 'I knew you would'.

"Lady Mormont. I know that Westeros has had its fair share of madmen, butchers and those not fit to even glance at a crown yet alone wear one. Any Promises I make in front of you would fall on deaf ears, so I will not insult you or your intelligence and simply say…I will make it my mission to prove you wrong about me" Dany replied.

Lyanna and pretty much every Northern Lord present gave Daenerys a look of surprise, not expecting the Mad King's daughter to give such an eloquent response without the flowery wording of a corrupt politician. Dany knew from Jon that words from her would not sway the Northerners, she had to earn their loyalty with actions.

And that is exactly what she planned to do.

Sitting down; Dany nodded to Jon who gave her a quick nod in response. The glances Sansa had been giving Daenerys all the while slowly shifting from distrust to confusion to surprise. Dany could tell Sansa had not let her guard down yet, but it was a good start all things considered.

One step at a time.

"Lord Umber" Jon called to the youngest lord present.

"Yes, My Lord" Ned Umber replied; quickly after hearing Jon's fiery display and Dany's eloquent response.

"Your people are located closest to the Wall, if it falls; then Last Hearth will be the first fortress to make contact with the dead. Begin evacuating those that travel slow, the sick, the old, children, small families. When the Dead breakthrough they won't have the luxury of slow travel" Jon ordered with a nod.

"We will need more horses and wagons to help move them my lord" Ned Umber replied quickly, not old or wise enough to question Jon.

"You will have the horses and wagons you requested Lord Umber" Sansa smiled.

"Thank you, my lady" Ned nodded before returning to his seat.

"Maester Wolkan" Jon called for the resident Maester to step forward.

"Yes, My Lord" Wolkan replied dutifully.

"Begin sending Ravens to the citizens closest to the wall; they are to evacuate to Winterfell as soon as possible, be sure to tell them to bring as much food, clothing and tools as possible and only the essentials. We will need every man, woman and strong child we can get for what is coming" Jon ordered.

"At once, my Lord" Wolkan nodded and left to do his duty.

"My Lords, My Ladies. Tomorrow we shall gather again to discuss battle plans, for now it has been a long day; so, if you will excuse me; I must show Queen Daenerys and her people to their chambers" Jon nodded to the Lords and Ladies who began to disperse.

* * *

The doors to the Lord's chambers opened with an audible creak; in stepped Daenerys after Jon held the door open to her, once his Queen was inside; Jon stepped in and closed the door behind him. This was the first time Jon and Dany had been alone since the day they arrived in White Harbour, and the tension between the two of them could be felt.

"So, how do you like my home?" Jon asked, breaking the silence.

"It certainly has its charms" Dany turned and smiled at him.

Jon smiled back, taking off his fur cloak and dropping it over the nearby bench, now wearing only his leather gambeson; he takes off his gloves and unbuckles his sword belt. Dany raises a brow at this and smiles warningly at him, the orange glow of the fire making her even more ethereal and beautiful than usual.

"My Lord Snow…what would the other lords think if they could see you now?" Dany smirked as she walked over to Jon; taking off her gloves as she did.

"Honestly? Jealously" Jon smirked as he snaked his left arm around Dany's waist and pulled her in close.

Dany and Jon were now separated by only an inch; her gorgeous lilac eyes meeting his hungry iron grey eyes as the fire crackled around them. The Targaryen Queen smiled as she put her hands on his shoulders affectionately.

"I must say, the North is colder than I expected" Dany smiled, her breath and Jon's mingling in the space between them.

"Don't worry…I'll keep you warm" Jon slowly and lovingly met Dany's lips; their eyes closing as they enjoyed this moment of peace.

The sweet smell of the Dragon Queen filled Jon's nostrils; her lips felt softer than the finest silk and the satisfied noises she made filled his heart with joy. He couldn't help but bring his right hand up and gently caress her neck; her skin was finer than all the silks of the world and he was the only one able to touch her like this.

Dany let out a quiet hum as their kissing became more passionate; Jon demanded entrance to her mouth which she gladly gave. Their kissing became more and more passionate and heated as fire built up between them, Jon's right hand no longer caressing his Queen but rather seizing her as his inner wolf took command.

In this moment they were not the Breaker of Chains and the Bastard of Winterfell, they were not the Khaleesi of the Great Grass seas and the former Commander of the Night's Watch, they were not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and the Warden of the North, they were not even Daenerys Targaryen and Jon Snow in this moment.

She was his woman, and he was her man.

As Jon began to back Daenerys up towards the bed; she broke the kiss with a sudden gasp of air and placed her hands against his chest. Immediately snapping out of his daze; Jon wondered if he had done something wrong. He and Dany had shared multiple nights together since leaving Dragonstone, but they had not made love since departing their ship at White Harbour.

She couldn't be having second thoughts?

"You have a fire inside you Jon…you should learn to control it; or you'll burn someone" Dany smiled after catching her breath.

Jon smiled when he realized he was simply going a bit too fast; looking down he saw that he was already in the process of stripping his Queen. He took a deep breath and smiled lovingly at her; they didn't need to rush; they were in his home and she was his guest.

"I suppose it's a good thing you are the Unburnt" Jon smiled back as he brushed a silver lock out of Dany's face.

Taking a deep breath, Jon let her go and went to sit down on the side of the bed. Dany quickly joined him and lovingly leaned her head against his shoulder, they had all the time in the world right now; to simply love each other.

"These used to be my father's chambers; a long time ago. Reserved for the Lords of Winterfell, the Mighty Wardens of the North" Jon told Dany as she contently leaned against him.

"What would he think of us? Your father?" Dany asked.

"He would need time to warm up to you…but I think he would love you. He hated what the Lannisters did to your family; no honour in butchering innocent children for what their grandfather did" Jon explained as he wrapped an arm around Dany's shoulders and hugged her close.

"I wish I could have met him" Dany whispered before planting a soft kiss on Jon's cheek.

"Aye, me too" Jon smiled as he leaned his head against Dany's.

For a few moments Jon and Dany just sat there; listening to the crackling of the fire and the sound of each other's breathing. Slowly and softly; Dany clasped Jon's right hand in her own; the soft feeling of the other's skin only adding to the peace and content they were feeling.

At first Jon thought what he felt for Daenerys was simple lust or admiration, she was beautiful; there was no doubt about that, and she had the strength and courage of a Dragon. But in moments such as this where they could simply let the titles and bloodlines and birth rights slip away, where they could just be themselves in their purest forms with each other; Jon knew.

He was in love.

And from the way she reacted; from the way she looked at him with affection and vulnerability, he knew she loved him as well. They were two different people from two different worlds; he a Northern warrior who grew up in cold and shame, her an exiled Princess; sentenced to walk the scorching heat of Essos.

Yet fate had brought them together; two people with so much in common yet so much to set them apart. Jon had to believe that whatever gods existed; be it the Old gods or the seven or even the Lord of Light that brought him back from death, whatever gods held sway over this world saw it fit to bring them together.

Falling in love was simply inevitable.

"Jon…please stay with me tonight" Dany whispered softly.

"I don't think that would set a good message to the Northern Lords" Jon whispered softly in reply, nuzzling her silky silver hair.

"Fuck the Northern Lords" she replied with a smirk.

Jon let out a surprised snort of laughter; hearing her be so frank and crass was a welcome surprise that let him know that he wasn't speaking to the Mother of Dragons right now, he was speaking to Dany.

"I don't think I've ever heard you curse like that before" Jon chuckled as he raised his head to meet her gentle gaze.

"I think you are a bad influence. That or I picked it up from Ser Sandor on the way here" she smiled as she leaned closer to her lover, nuzzling her face against his.

"I hope that's the only thing you picked up from him" Jon chuckled as he raised his hand to caress her soft cheek yet again.

He couldn't get enough of her; and from the way she was nuzzling him, she couldn't either. They felt like they were made to be pleasing to each other; as if everything down to even the shape of their eyes and the feeling of their lips had been tailor made to please.

"I have to tend to something first…I'll come back; I promise" Jon smiled softly as he stroked her cheek.

"Hurry back…please" Dany whispered as she leaned in and lovingly kissed Jon on the lips which he gladly returned.

"I will…get warm for me" Jon smiled as he stood up and walked to the door.

Dany looked over to Jon as he stopped by the door and put on his cloak and his sword belt; looking over his shoulder Jon gave her a reassuring nod. He would come back, and she would be waiting for him. As soon as the door shut; Dany lay back on the bed and smiled to herself.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt this deliriously happy.

* * *

The crunching of snow beneath Jon's feet was always a therapeutic sound; he knew that it was ironic that the last part of his name gave him comfort in this moment when it gave him such grief all his life. A smile graced his lips as he walked through the snow towards the Godswood; thinking upon the new love of his life eagerly awaiting his return once he did what he needed to do.

The Heart Tree came into view; the white bark against the pure white snow and red leaves vibrantly stark in contrast to the surrounding area. This was the place he would come to reflect; to throw his voice to whatever ancestors were in a listening mood. A place he could let out the tension and connect with the North again.

Sitting down on one of the logs near the tree; Jon clasped his hands in front of him and began to pray. He would pray for many things during these times; he would pray for his family to be safe; for a short winter; for happiness wherever he could find it.

But right now; he simply wanted to pray to the Old Gods so they may lend some assistance in the war to come. He had seen the Night King, he had seen the Army of the Dead in their endless bulk, and even with Daenerys, her armies, her dragons, both the Northern and Southern forces he didn't know if they could win.

'at least we'll give the fuckers a fight' he once said.

"I thought I would find you here" a familiar voice called out.

Jon's head shot up and he swerved around; meeting eyes with his sister Arya Stark. She had certainly changed in the time they had been apart; but there was no mistaking it; it was her.

"How did you sneak up on me?" Jon asked as he stood up.

"How did you survive a knife in the heart?" she asked instead of replying.

"I didn't" he smirked.

A smile slowly crept up on Arya face as she ran towards Jon and practically vaulted into his waiting arms. Jon and Arya had always been the closest of the Stark Siblings; ever the two Black sheep that never fit in with everyone else.

"You have certainly grown up" Jon said as he lovingly embraced his sister.

"You haven't" she joked back; earning a chuckle from Jon as he let her go.

"You still have it" Jon noticed that very same sword he gifted her when they first parted ways; hanging at her hip.

"Needle" she nodded before offering the sword for him to inspect.

"You've certainly kept it sharp; I suppose you've had to use it once or twice" Jon gave her a knowing glance.

"More than twice" Arya grinned as Jon handed the blade back.

"And what's this?" he said, pointing at the catspaw dagger sheathed at her side.

"Valyrian Steel, are you jealous" she replied, flicking the dagger skilfully between her fingers before showing the blade to Jon.

"Not really" Jon smirked as he unsheathed Longclaw and presented the blade to Arya.

"Does it have a name?" she asked.

"Longclaw"

"Fitting" she smiled back as he sheathed it.

"I saw your new Queen when you came back" Arya said as both she and Jon went to sit down besides the Heart Tree.

"Thoughts?" Jon asked; eager to know what his favourite sibling through about Dany.

"She is certainly pretty. You are doing well for yourself these days brother" Arya elbowed Jon and gave him a wink.

"Oh, stop it" Jon smiled.

"Sansa doesn't trust her" Arya continued.

"I understand how Sansa has trouble trusting anyone these days; after what she has been through, I doubt she will ever trust anyone again" Jon continued.

"She trusts you" Arya replied.

"Not fully. I know she thinks my honour and sense of right is a crutch. Spending too much time with Cersei and Littlefinger will do that to a person…where is Baelish now that I think of it? He wasn't there to greet us at the gates" Jon asked.

Arya simply unsheathed her dagger and mimed dragging it across her throat. Jon went wide eyed for a moment before letting out a disappointed sigh. Arya raised a brow at that reaction; she thought her brother would be pleased that Baelish was dead.

"What's wrong?" Arya asked.

"I wanted to kill that snake myself" he replied.

Arya smirked "Don't worry; his last moments weren't pretty" Jon seemed to like that. The man was a snake that deserved what was coming to him; the only pity in Jon's mind was that he didn't get to deal the killing blow himself.

"That's certainly good to hear" Jon smiled in reply.

For a few moments, Jon and Arya conversed about some of the things that had happened in their time apart; not too many details though, if they did, they would have been sat in the Godswood all night and Jon had a Queen waiting for him. Arya spoke about how she escaped King's Landing and her adventure to Braavos while Jon told her about his adventure beyond the wall and his excursions amongst the wildlings.

Once they had caught up; Jon being naturally surprised that Arya is the person that caused the destruction of house Frey and Arya being surprised that Jon had literally returned from the dead; the two of them stood and began walking back to the keep. The crunching of snow a constant reminder that they were home.

For a moment it seemed like Winterfell had become home again; with Jon and Arya conversing and swapping stories under the white branches of the heart tree.

* * *

After Jon and Arya had said their goodnights; the Raven-haired Lord of Winterfell made his way back to the Queen's chambers. He fully expected to open the door and see his silver haired beauty waiting there on the bed with a full smile, naked as her name day and begging him to come to her. But when he came to the door; he heard Daenerys speaking with a joyful tone.

When Jon opened the door, he saw a sight that melted his heart.

There, on her knees was Daenerys in her underclothes; holding out her hands and gently petting the large white furred head of Jon's faithful Direwolf, Ghost.

"Oh, you are a handsome boy, aren't you?" Dany cooed as Ghost relished in the attention she offered; his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as Dany pet the huge Direwolf.

"I see you've been acquainted" Jon smiled as he took off his cloak.

"I take it this is Ghost" Dany smiled as she continued to pet her new friend. The Direwolf seemed to be completely at ease with his head cradled in her soft hands.

"I knew he would like you" Jon smiled as he took off his sword belt and walked over to join Dany and Ghost. Kneeling down besides Dany; Jon scratched Ghost behind the ears in that place he always loved.

"I thought you were scratching at the door to tease me; imagine my surprise when I opened the door to find him waiting there" Dany smiled.

"He probably smells me all over you" Jon smirked as he leaned in and nuzzled the side of her head.

"He is much gentler than I thought he would be" Dany giggled as Ghost rose up to nuzzle the Dragon Queen, taking great care when he began nuzzling his head against her midsection.

"Aye, he is ferocious against our enemies; but with friends and family he is a big softy" Jon scratched Ghost behind the ears.

"Did you take care of your business?" Dany asked with a smirk.

"Aye…and now I have other business to attend to" Jon stood up and held out his hand to his Queen; helping her to her feet.

Ghost stood to his feet and walked over towards the door; silently asking to be let out. The Direwolf could smell his master and his new mate; and he could very much tell what was going to be happening tonight. Jon chuckled at the human-like intelligence of his Direwolf; and Dany almost blushed at the fact that a wolf wanted to give them privacy.

Jon opened the door, allowing Ghost to make a quick and quiet retreat. The Direwolf would be back; he enjoyed Daenerys' soft hands way too much to deny more scratches and pats. Jon turned and met eyes with Daenerys as she climbed onto the bed; her eyes hazy with love and lust.

"Lord Snow; your Queen is lonely" she spoke seductively; Jon couldn't help but gaze as her soft legs, her silver locks, her lilac eyes all illuminated by the orange glow of the fire, a Goddess in human form if ever there was one.

"As my Queen commands" Jon smiled as he made his way to her; shedding his clothes to meet with the woman of his dreams.

* * *

**Hope you guys enjoyed the first of many chapters of my quest to give myself and anyone else closure. And No, its not all going to be wholesome Jonerys fluff (then again even THAT would have been better than what we got) there will be death, angst, and unlike D&D I will actually try to deliver on the foreshadowing that was set up…motherfucking hacks.**

**And I'll just say this, if any of you motherfuckers start sending me those "Daenerys was always going to go mad" messages FUCK YOU! I have no time for you and your BS, so take your bullshit opinions and get fucked! **

**Sorry, I try to be civil but I am fucking livid after 10 years of caring about a show just got shot in the face. Fuck D&D, Fuck HBO and Fuck anyone that thought this was a good idea to end the show. A small part of me died with Episode 5, and I can never get that back, so I'm going to fight this with every last piece of me I have left.**

**Hope you guys can stick with me on this ride, doing my best to fix myself…hopefully It can help you guys too.**

**Please let me know what you thought in the form of a lengthy review, I'm open to criticism and will welcome it with open arms.**


	2. The Queen I Chose

**Hey everyone I'm back, No HUGE paragraph of dialogue from me this time, I've cooled down but I'm still angry; to be fair I don't think I'll ever get over what D&D have done to this show. But I can bounce back from it, can't lose hope eh? **

**Let's go ahead and continue down our long road to recovery, shall we?**

**Chapter 2: The Queen I chose**

The road North was not an easy one; not one that Jamie found that easy to be honest. As he sat at a table in a dingy Inn; with a cup of ale and a bland meal of dry bread, a bowl of stew and hard cheese, he honestly couldn't remember the last time he was truly happy.

Was it when he and Tyrion joked about Cousin Orson before his trail by combat?

Was it when he made it back to King's Landing and back to Cersei?

Was it even during his many adventures with Bronn?

Was it when he reunited with Myrcella in Dorne?

No, Jamie couldn't remember the last time he was genuinely happy; every time he felt even a spark of joy it was instantly shot down with a reminder of his shame, what he was, what his sister was, what his children were.

Jamie had loved his children and he loved Cersei; he wished she could have seen past that dam throne long enough to realize what was important. If she had then Tommen and Myrcella may have survived, Joffrey was always a lost cause; there was madness in him that Jamie could never had cured.

When Tommen and Myrcella died; Cersei slipped into that same madness that Aerys had slipped into. Jamie wanted to stay besides her after Tommen's death with the hope he could help her heal, that somehow, he could bring back the youthful happy Cersei that he loved; the Cersei that would have thrown herself in front of an army to defend her children.

But that was a fantasy, that Cersei had died long ago.

He remembered the way she looked at him when he told her he was leaving; the crazed look in her eyes, the way she nodded to that abomination that used to be Gregor Clegane. Devoid of that same love he used to share with her.

Their relationship wasn't perfect to begin with; he knew that much, but at the end of the day he loved her and she loved him. The way she treated him those last few days wasn't love; she looked at him like a possession, like a toy.

Taking a sip of the foul-tasting Ale; Jamie tried to shake his mind free of such thoughts, Cersei was behind him now and he had bigger concerns. Namely the army of the dead that threatened the lives of everyone in not only Westeros; but the entire world. The Journey to Winterfell was going to be less glamorous than he had hoped; instead of travelling with the Lannister army he was staying in dingy inns by his lonesome.

It wasn't ideal; but he had sworn to fight for the living.

He owed it to himself not to break this oath.

"More ale?" the barmaid asked as she approached Jamie.

She was a pretty thing; brown hair, nice face, charming in a lowborn sort of way. Jamie simply smiled and said "No thank you; I'm fine" returning to his 'meal'.

"Just give a shout if you do" she winked before returning to her duties.

Jamie only smiled; knowing that if he and the others in the North didn't succeed, that the barmaid and everyone in this Inn would be marching in an army without a pulse. Dipping his bread into the bland stew and taking a few bites; Jamie tried his best to keep his mind on track.

He wasn't too far away from Winterfell now, another day or two on horseback and we would be there; ready to start making battle plans and help in the defence of the fortress. Then again, he wasn't looking forward to his reception; his sister had promised the entire Lannister army, instead they would only get a one-handed man.

Quite a step down if he was being honest.

Jamie noticed a group of 4 cutthroats few tables down; from their ratty old clothing, scarred faces and daggers sheathed at their sides. He could see the way they were eyeing him; they knew he wasn't just some lowborn vagabond; he had gloved his hand and covered Widow's wail so no one would see the Lannister gold.

But Jamie understood that with his looks; how healthy and tones he was, that no one would mistake him for a lowborn. The four men slowly began to stand up; eyeing him as they did, hands hovering over their daggers.

Just as Jamie was about to reach for Widow's wail; out of nowhere a steel blade imbedded itself into the table in front of him with an audible *SLAM*. The table shook and ale spilled all over the table; Jamie looked up to see that the blade belonged to a hooded man, the way he stood looked familiar.

The Cutthroats quickly turned tail and left when they saw this new man arrive; and Jamie had to wonder if this man was a saviour or enemy. But when the man pulled his knife from the table and sheathed it behind his back; he turned, and Jamie met eyes with a man he thought he had left behind.

"You're shit at staying inconspicuous, you know that?" Bronn asked with a raised brow as he sat down opposite Jamie.

"Bronn? What are you…did Cersei send you?" Jamie asked as he quickly figured out an answer; that Cersei had paid Bronn to come and kill him for leaving, much easier to have someone killed when you can't see them after all.

"If I wanted to kill ya, you would be dead already. And no, your sister did not send me; she offered…or that creepy little shit in the robes did anyway" Bronn picked up Jamie's ale mug and took a swig.

"…did you accept?" Jamie asked; wondering if he should expect a knife in the face from Bronn anytime soon.

"No, I didn't fucking accept. No offence but…actually yes, plenty of offence, your sister is a crazy two-faced cunt" Bronn retorted as he put his feet up on the table. Jamie gave him a look that practically said 'don't talk about her like that', but Bronn smirked in response.

"What? She is a crazy two-faced cunt, and don't tell me I can't call her that; because you aren't paying me anymore" the Sellsword leaned over and picked up some cheese from Jamie's plate and bit into it.

"Any reason why you are following me then?" Jamie asked with a raised brow.

"Why do you think? I'm coming North with ya, ya daft prat" Bronn replied; taking another chug of ale and signalling for the barmaid to bring more.

"I didn't think you were that loyal" Jamie replied; surprised.

"Pah! Loyal!? Fucking hell, did you forget who you are talking to? I only saved your arse at the Blackwater rush because you were paying me, I only stuck by your side because you were paying me. You and your little sad sack of a brother paid me well…minus a castle and bride; but that's beside the point" Bronn continued; the Barmaid approaching with a jug of ale.

"More ale gents?" she asked.

"Oh please…keep em coming love" Bronn winked at the Barmaid who gave him a blush.

"I think she liked you" Jamie said once the barmaid left.

"I'll fuck her before we get off; she looks like she prefers older gents" Bronn waggled his brows before taking another chug of ale. Jamie had to admit; Bronn's bluntness was always refreshing and despite his total lack of tact, he always managed to make him smile.

"Now, where was I?" Bronn asked.

"The reason you were coming north with me?" Jamie nodded his head.

"Oh yes, that little chestnut. Unlike those dumb cunts in your army; I plan on surviving Winter and that entails not waiting in the south for an army of marching corpses to gut me in my sleep" Bronn replied; reaching over and taking Jamie's stew bowl.

"…if you wanted to survive you could have just sailed to Essos, Pentos, Braavos or Lys would welcome a sellsword like you in no time" Jamie retorted.

"I was getting to that smart arse. If I sailed over to Essos without getting what you promised me; then that means I'll either die poor or have to keep working; and in case you didn't notice, Sellswords don't have a very long-life expectancy" Bronn paused to take another drink.

"Wait…you are coming North to fight in the war…so the Dragon Queen can reward you once we are done?" Jamie asked with a furrowed brow.

"And there we are, looks like you're not as fucking stupid as they say you are" Bronn clapped his hands condescendingly.

"You are taking a lot of risks here Bronn. How do you even know if the Dragon Queen will want to reward you? What if she has me executed the moment that they see we don't have an army marching behind us?" Jamie asked.

"Number one; risk taking is what Sellswords do. Number two; she will because I will be giving her important information regarding your crazy bitch of a sister and what she has planned, and Number three; then I'll be the man who single handily delivered Jamie Lannister, the man who killed her father and betrayed her trust directly to her…sounds like a win no matter how you slice it" Bronn smirked as he held his mug to his lips.

"…And what if I let it slip that you are the one who injured her dragon on the Blackwater rush?" Jamie asked with a smirk of his own; Bronn nearly chocked and sat straight up when Jamie said that.

"You wouldn't" he stated.

"Are you sure?" Jamie asked with a head tilt and a pout.

"…Fucking Lannisters" Bronn swore with a shake of his head.

"Suppose your days as my bodyguard aren't quite over just yet, Ser Bronn" Jamie smirked as he leaned back.

"I better get that fucking castle when this is all done" Bronn grunted before taking a particularly violent swig of ale.

* * *

The cold winds howled in the reaches of the far north; snow and ice bellowing so hard they would cause frostbite within mere moments. The North beyond the Wall was totally devoid of most life these days, barely a few rabbits and mice managing to survive in their burrows, safe from the howling wind and the creatures that roamed the plains of cold unforgiving ice.

Not a single living human lived North of the Wall, the last to die North being Thoros of Myr and the few Wildlings that accompanied Jon Snow on his mission to retrieve a Wight.

The howling wind drowned out most sounds now that Winter had come; many trees would be torn from their roots by the harsh blizzards and any living thing caught in said blizzards would share the very same fate.

But that didn't stop whoever was riding through the snows.

Very few animals survived the coming of the White Walkers; Horses became their mounts, Direwolves, Bears and Mammoths joined their ranks, as did many other predatory animals in the far North. But here; treading through the snow was a very strange sight.

A huge, magnificent best with a thick fur coat and two massive antlers sprouting from its head, an Elk. And riding atop this mighty Elk, was a man; dressed in mottled black and grey with a shredded cloak and a black scarf covering a cold, pale face.

The cold did not bother this man in the slightest, as anyone that could see would know his hands were black and frostbitten; yet that did not stop him gripping the reigns of the mighty Elk.

"Easy boy, not far now" the man spoke with a thick Northern accent.

Soon the man and his Elk came across the devastated husk of a Heart Tree; its bark now a blackened ebony as opposed to the usual white of the trees, all of the leaves had burnt away to a crisp and the cave entrance before it was littered with the obliterated remains of undead wights.

"Whoa, Whoa, easy boy, easy…we're here" He spoke again, comforting his mount that continued to snort and huff, steam exuding from its nostrils.

The man leapt off of the Elk and lead it into the cave mouth away from the biting cold; he didn't mind the blistering winds but he needed his mount for the foreseeable future. Once he had what he came for; he would need to make haste quickly.

"Stay here, Boy. Get warm" the man pats the Elk before walking deeper into the caves.

The magical sigils and runes of the cave no longer held sway as its creators lay dead; strewn about the interior, butchered like pigs and left to rot. The man cautiously and respectfully stepped around the bodies of the last of the children, closing their eyes before coming to the roots.

There, suspended in the roots of the great Heart Tree was the corpse of the former Three Eyed Raven, Brynden Rivers, the last Greenseer North of the Wall. A massive gash that had dam near cleaved him in two.

The man bowed his head in an act of respect before approaching and closing the Raven's eyes as well; the Walker's magic hadn't taken the Raven, what use would a crippled old man eternally entangled in tree roots be?

Looking below the corpse of the former Raven, the man spotted what he came here for. Ramming his fist into the roots; breaking them apart and tossing them aside, the man grunted as he pulled out the object of his mission.

A sheathed sword, wrapped all in black cloth.

The man unravelled the cloth; revealing it to be a folded banner, decorated with a red eyed white dragon. The sword itself was a work of art, it's cross-guard resembling a pair of unfurled dragon wings, a single red ruby lay encrusting the centre of it's hilt. Unsheathing the sword only halfway, the man stared at the beautiful Valyrian markings dancing along the rippled blade.

A blade of Valyrian steel.

Dark Sister, the sword of Visenya Targaryen.

A sword that would be needed for the war to come.

Buckling the sword into his belt, the man secured his precious cargo before returning to his mount waiting at the entrance of the cave. As the man tied the sword into his belt, he revealed that his chest was littered with stab and slice wounds that would have killed a regular man.

But this man was no regular man.

He was not a man anymore; he was brought back for a purpose and he still had yet to fulfil that purpose.

To fight for the living.

"HYEA!" The man roared as he spurred the Elk into action; snow spraying into the air as the Elk made a mad dash.

As the man rode his Elk at breakneck speeds through the snow and ice; he had but one thought, that he wouldn't be late; that he could get there in time.

That he could get there before the Wall fell.

* * *

Jon had a smile plastered across his face as he walked through the halls of Winterfell with Ghost at his side; it felt good to be home he had to admit. To be walking through the halls that made up his childhood; remembering all the good times he had with Robb, Theon, Bran, Arya, Sansa and even Rickon. But the memory in the forefront of his mind right now were the fresh memories.

Memories like waking up with the most beautiful woman in the world; sleeping softly and peacefully in his arms. Memories he would treasure until his dying day; Jon looked forward to making more memories with Dany in the future.

"Well boy? Do you like her?" Jon asked with a smile.

Ghost's dangling tongue and happy face pretty much spoke for itself. Direwolves were great at sensing the goodness in someone; they had a keen sense for that. Even at the Wall; Ghost seemed to know which brothers had good hearts and which were scumbags. Ghost loved Sam, Grenn, Maester Aemon, Pyp, Commander Mormont and Edd, but hated Slynt, hated Thorne and especially hated Tanner.

The way Ghost acted with Dany warmed his heart; as did the way she reacted to him, embracing the Direwolf as if he were a new-born puppy and not a huge beast that would easily tear a man to shreds. If Ghost loved her; then Jon was convinced, he had chosen the right woman to give his heart and loyalty to.

As he turned a corner, he came face to face with a sight he was getting more and more annoyed by with each day. Davos Seaworth; standing there with his hands behind his back…smirking.

"Don't you even start" Jon sighed as he walked to the doors to his chambers.

"Don't start what? I have no idea what you are implying, my Lord" Davos smirked knowingly.

Stepping inside his chambers; Jon let Ghost and Davos follow him inside, throwing a few fresh logs onto the hearth and starting a fire; Jon could feel Davos' twinkling eyes on him. The man's insistence really had no bounds.

"Go on then…say it" Jon sighed as he started the fire.

"I'm happy for you" Davos smiled genuinely.

Jon just looked at Davos with an arched brow; he was expecting some snide comment about 'enjoying the night?' or 'making alliances last, are we?' but instead it was a simple 'I'm happy for you'.

Sometimes Davos' fatherly nature warmed Jon's heart.

"Excuse me?" Jon asked.

"She's a beautiful young woman; from what lady Missandei has told me she has been through hell, just like you; you both deserve to be happy" Davos smiled.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Davos" Jon smiled back; stoking the fires.

"So…when are you going to ask her?" Davos took a seat.

"Ask her what?" Jon asked with a surprised glance; he knew what Davos meant but the question was admittedly a shock.

"I think you know of what I speak" Davos smirked as Jon sat down beside him.

"We have a war on the horizon Davos, now isn't the time for sappy proposals. Besides, I don't think the Northern Lords would appreciate me marrying a Targaryen Queen a few days after bringing her to Winterfell" Jon replied with a sigh; rubbing his temples.

"You know perhaps its time you stop taking too much stock in what the Northern Lords think" Davos offered.

"You aren't my hand anymore and I'm not a king, so you don't have to advise me" Jon replied.

"You are right…I don't; but I will anyway" Davos smirked.

Jon shook his head; he had to admit he liked how dedicated Davos was to helping him, unlike other advisors Jon had seen and dealt with; Davos wanted the people he served to be happy. He had seen how Davos interacted with the princess Shireen and even Stannis during their short time at Castle Black.

"You love her, don't you?"

"I do" Jon had nothing to hide from Davos.

"And she loves you?"

"Aye, she does" Jon smiled; remembering the ways Dany looked at him when they were alone.

"Most people don't find happiness in this world, Jon. But I've seen the way you two look at each other; that's not something anyone should let go of" Davos put a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"There was a time Davos, where I never considered settling down; taking a wife, having children. But since meeting her…I've never wanted anything more than that" Jon replied as Davos held onto his shoulder.

"Look at it this way; when the Dead come…do you want to have any regrets?" Davos asked.

* * *

The blowing of wind and the spray of seawater was always a welcome feeling for an Ironborn reaver; the absolute freedom of the open waters and the sounds of the water crashing against the side of your ship.

Those were the things Yara Greyjoy lived for.

For her, being Ironborn was never about the loot or the plunder; never about putting villages to the sword and establishing dominance. It was about being free; free to go wherever you wanted, to be whatever you wanted to be.

We do not Sow. The words of her house were ones that her father had spoken of regularly; we do not plough the fields or sow crops. For her father it simply meant to take from others, never make things for yourself. But to Yara it was different; farmers were poor, subjugated by the lords whose protection they lived under, slaves without chains or collars.

Ironborn had no farmers; they did not sow or plough the fields because they did what they wanted. Her men followed her into the jaws of hell because they wanted to; because they chose her to be her leader. The name Greyjoy was just a formality to her; not something she latched onto, even if she didn't have the name Greyjoy, if she were born Yara Pyke she would still command the respect she did amongst her crew.

Because she had earned it herself.

Being Ironborn meant you had to earn what you wanted; no one would simply hand it to you. And that included your freedom.

But here; stuck in the bowels of the Silence, her arms shackled behind her back and a metal collar around her neck; Yara was not free. Far from it; she was as much a slave as those sad pricks working the fields in the Reach.

Even more so; even they could walk around and enjoy a bit of fresh air.

"Enjoying the trip, Niece?" came the voice of her captor.

Yara stayed silent; she had been beaten bloody by his crew last night, a sick way of keeping the crew of mutes entertained. They had to let out their frustration somehow; they certainly couldn't speak their angers and frustrations to their captain.

"Oh, cheer up Yara. It won't be long until we are back at King's Landing; then the real fun can begin" Euron grinned as he sat himself down besides Yara; holding a waterskin full of rum. Yara noticed his hair had grown longer; now reaching his shoulder; he looked more ragged and torn than usual, but that crazed look still filled his eyes.

As the days passed, he seemed to be slipping slower and slower into madness; a self-aware type of madness, a narcissistic madness that his silent crew and obedient subjects enforced. He hadn't earned the salt throne through great deeds; he got it because he was brutal; because he was a man; because anyone that said differently would end up flayed and nailed to the mast of the silence as a warning to others.

"Why don't you just kill me?" Yara asked; eyes fixed on the floor; her face expressionless.

"Kill you? Where would the fun be in that? If I killed you; who would I talk to? Those fancy fucking mercenaries up top?" Euron said before taking a messy swig.

"About another day's sailing and Queen Cersei will have her army. If you can call them that; bunch of fancy fucking cunts in gold armour…who the fuck wears gold armour? Rich, fancy cunts that's who" Euron snickered as he wiped his mouth.

Yara couldn't stand even being near him; he may have been her uncle but they were not family. Most people in this world had a code, some sort of limits; lines they wouldn't cross; things that they held sacred.

Not Euron.

Every time she thought he had hit a new low; reached his limit; he dug deeper. He killed her father; his own brother to claim a throne; he mutilated men to keep them from scheming behind his back; he took joy in causing pain and misery. She knew that being king of the Iron Islands was not his peak; he would not settle for the station he had right now.

"Not feeling chatty?" Euron asked; dangling the waterskin in front of her face.

"Wet your whistle?" Euron teased her; dangling the waterskin just out of reach.

Euron cackled before taking another swig of the rum filled waterskin; spitting most of it onto the floor in front of her with a manic grin on his face. Standing up; Euron walked around and crouched down in front of his niece. Yara would have made a move to kick him; but the bastard had chained her legs together and onto the same pole her arms were chained against.

"That beating you took last night; I have to admit you took it well, it makes me think what else you could endure" Euron smiled as he ran his hand over Yara's thigh and up to her waist.

"What is wrong with you?" Yara shuddered at his touch.

"Wrong? Nothing. I am one of the sanest men you'll ever meet" Euron smiled as his hand went higher; violating her.

"You are worse than her" Yara hissed before spitting in Euron's face. The Ironborn king simply smirked; wiped away the spit and viscously backhanded her across the face.

"Her? You mean Cersei? Oh please, give me some credit. That dumb bitch isn't my end goal; she was always a stepping stone" Euron laughed as he stood up and walked over to a nearby table.

"What are you talking about?" Yara groaned as she swore a tooth went loose from that backhand.

"You think that is what I want? To be the bed servant of a mentally unstable brotherfucker? No, no, no…she is just a means to an end" Euron smiled as he rummaged through his possessions.

"I gave her the Iron Fleet; I ferry an army of Mercenaries to her; I gain her trust; she opens her legs for me as thanks. But how long would an empire of sell swords last under a ruler that doesn't command respect?" Euron walked around in front of Yara; now holding a grisly looking knife with a serrated edge.

"I command respect through not just fear…but reward. When my men plunder and loot; I barely take a share of the spoils; gold and jewels are just pretty things that men put value in. The same for praise from the gods and titles given by royalty…it's all horseshit at the end of the day. The men I surround myself with know it; the rest of the Iron Fleet are beginning to know it; and soon so will you and your little cockles twat of a brother" Euron raised the knife to Yara's face and slowly dragged the tip down; not enough pressure to open a wound but enough to be uncomfortable.

"My men know that whatever glories or treasures I take; belong to them through me. Titles and lands, gold and jewels, wives and sons…men hold value in these; but not me. Control over others is something that neither title, faith or riches can sustain…displays of power are all that matter" Euron smiled as he began cutting the fabric of Yara's tunic, slowly exposing her skin.

"And when the Mighty Dragon Queen and her dragons bow before me…I will own this world" Euron smiled.

"How do you plan on that?" Yara spat.

"Cersei thinks her Hand has a solution…it's a fucking stupid one. To litter the Iron Fleet with scorpions and shoot the dragons from the skies…stupid cunt. Machines do not display power; if you kill your enemy then you erase their power from the world…but bend them to you; make them submit…and their power becomes yours" Euron tore open Yara's tunic; exposing her breasts to the salty and damp air.

"Dragons and their fire forged a dynasty that lasted longer than any other rule in history. Imagine a ruler that ruled both the seas and the skies? The World's largest fleet; protected by Dragonfire, with no one to speak out against the almighty man that bent them to his will…now that is an empire that could never fall" Euron smiled as he grabbed a hold of Yara's left breast.

Yara felt like throwing up; the feel of his rough, calloused hands on her skin was enough to make her shudder, she would rather suffer a thousand more beatings than have this continue. Her uncle was insane, through and through. A man with no boundaries was barely a man at all; without morals or limits a man could do terrible things. But what disturbed her the most was how calmly he said it; how what he said made sense.

Power resided where men believe it to reside.

"I don't want you dead, Yara. I don't really want Theon dead…Death is a simple way of tying up loose ends…like your father. He was never going to bend to me; so, I had to sling him off the side of a bridge to take his crown. When Cersei grows large with my son…he won't live to be a king; he'll live to be another mute member of my crew…forever sworn to serve me…she will have fulfilled her purpose and those golden armoured bastards won't last long in the coming war" Euron continued.

"I make use of what I have, and when it has served its purpose, I discard it; that's sanity, only the weak and insane hold onto things thinking they have meaning. My crew is full of bastards; many my own, some men put stock in blood ties…but not me, I am the only true Ironborn…I see something I want and I take it; it's that simple" Euron grinned.

"The rest of the crew should be sleeping by now…no one to disturb us" he grinned as he leaned in.

Yara swerved her head to the side when Euron's tongue snaked across the side of her face. She felt like dying; this disgusting feeling creeping inside her was too much to bear. If Yara had a knife at that moment she would have used it to slit her own throat rather than endure this violation. Suddenly a fire ignited in Yara's eyes.

She was no damsel; she was Yara fucking Greyjoy, and she wouldn't let this happen without a fight. With a quick jerk of her head and a gnashing of teeth, Yara bit into Euron's face; her teeth finding his lower lip.

The taste of blood quickly filled her mouth as she clamped her jaws down on Euron's lip and tore. With a squirt of ruby red crimson and a yell of anger and pain; Euron rose to his feet, dropping his knife and reaching up to his now gushing wound.

"AAAAAAAAGH! FUCKING WHORE!" Euron roared; rearing his foot back and kicking Yara in the face. The woman spitting out blood and a tooth for her troubles; but Yara simply smirked and looked back at her scumbag of an uncle and chuckled.

"What's the matter uncle? Didn't expect me to fight back?" Yara grinned before spitting out a chunk of his lower lip onto the floor.

"You will regret that you little bitch" Euron cursed with his teeth gritted; blood dripping upon the floor.

"I don't think I will" Yara grunted as he struggled against her binds.

"Oh…I'm going to enjoy breaking you down" Euron wrapped a hand around Yara's throat and knocked her out with a swift right hook to the face.

Yara's vision went black and everything faded to darkness; when she woke up, she knew she would be in a worse position than before.

If only she knew of what was coming.

* * *

"And you are certain it all adds up?" Sansa asked; her hands lying flat against the top of the table.

"Yes, my lady, enough food to keep our men fed for most of the foreseen winter" Wolkan replied.

"Tyrion…he really came prepared, didn't he?" Sansa murmured to herself with a slight smirk adorning her face.

"The Imp has always had a clever mind for politics; what better way of softening the North up than to give them food?" Lord Royce nodded his head.

Sansa, Lord Royce and Maester Wolkan had gathered in the study; which had this morning been converted into a pseudo war room. on the table was laid a map of Winterfell and the surrounding forests; if the Dead managed to make it past the Wall like Jon thought they would, this would be the place to plan the castle's defence.

"Maester Wolkan; did you account for the citizens traveling southward?" Sansa asked; almost hoping for a snag in the Dragon Queen's efforts.

"I did my lady; the food that Queen Daenerys has supplied is well sufficient for not only her forces but ours as well" Wolkan continued.

Sansa looked down at the map of Winterfell and the gathered wooden checkers that represented their forces; those marked with the stark Direwolf representing the Northern forces, the Moon and Falcon for the Knights of the vale and a three headed dragon for Daenerys forces. The Nothern Forces were loyal to Jon, the Knights of the vale loyal to her, and the Unsullied and Dothraki were loyal to Daenerys.

9,000 Northern soldiers, including the Free Folk

2,000 Knights of the Vale

100,000 Dothraki Screamers

9,000 Unsullied

And 2 large Dragons

Minus the Lannister army on its way; their forces totalled to 120,002, a very considerable force that luckily had the resourced to fuel itself. Probably the largest army the North had seen in a long time, yet that still didn't come close to however many soldiers marched in the Army of the Dead. According to Jon; Mance Rayder led a Wildling army of 100,000 while he was in the Night's Watch, the vast bulk of which were massacred at Hardhome by a superior force of at least 150,000 dead.

There was no clear answer as to how many soldiers marched in the Night King's army, they had to take into account the countless Wildlings that had died North of the Wall, exactly how long could a corpse last before the White Walkers were unable to resurrect it?

For all Sansa knew; everything that had ever died North of the Wall could be marching in the Army of the Dead.

The staggering numbers at the Night King's disposal were enough to make her shudder; an army of 100,000 was terrifying in of itself, yet alone double or more.

"How many men march in the Lannister army, Lord Royce?" Sansa asked.

"Last I heard the Lannisters alone had six to seven thousand men at their disposal my lady; The Stormlands last numbered at around 3,000, the Riverlands combined forces also numbered at 20,000 and what remains of the Tarly forces is around 8,000 men" Royce explained; he was much more suited for warfare than politics, counting out enemy forces was simply something one learned.

The door to the study opened; and in stepped the former King in the North himself, Sansa's brother Jon. He was wearing his full regalia of his wolf fur cloak, armour gambeson and steel gorget depicting two direwolves, and of course Longclaw hanging at his hip.

"Morning, Sansa, Lord Royce, Maester Wolkan" Jon greeted chipperly as he walked over to the table and embraced Sansa.

"You seen happy this morning" Sansa raised a brow.

"Just feel refreshed; yesterday was a busy day" Jon smiled before turning to the table.

"Have I missed much?" Jon asked.

"No, just doing counts of everything at our disposal" Sansa replied.

"Our total count comes to 120,000, the Southern forces should come to around 38,000 if they truly march all their forces North, My Lord" Royce explained.

"And weapon preparation?" Jon asked.

"We've given orders for every smith at our disposal to work overtime in crafting weapons from the Dragonglass you've supplied…"

"That Queen Daenerys supplied" Jon corrected Sansa with a raised brow.

There was a small silence in the room as Sansa and Jon met gazes; obviously it seemed like the air between them needed to be cleared out. Lord Royce was already shifting uncomfortably and Maester Wolkan didn't look like he wanted to be present to see the siblings fight.

"Leave us" Jon spoke out; Royce and Wolkan thankfully taking their leave.

Once both the Lord of the Vale and the Maester of Winterfell left the room; Jon stood up straight and walked around the table. With a deep sigh he met eyes with Sansa yet again and broke the awkward silence hanging between the two.

"I knew you would have problems with her; the moment you set eyes on her" Jon sighed.

"What are you talking about?" Sansa replied.

"I'm not an idiot Sansa; when she greeted you yesterday you looked at her like she slapped you in the face" Jon replied quickly; not in the mood for mind games or mincing words.

"She isn't one of us, Jon. I don't trust her"

"She has come North to help us, Sansa. All of her armies and both of her remaining Dragons" Jon replied; leaning forward with his palms flat against the table top.

"And I appreciate that, but name the last time a Monarch was that selfless. How do we know she isn't doing this to further her claim to the Iron Throne?" Sansa asked; the look on Jon's face spoke for itself.

"You are honestly thinking about that bloody chair? None of that matters right now; all that matters is making a stand against the real threat" Jon's voice was laced with an undertone of anger and frustration.

He didn't want to be angry with Sansa; he really didn't, but her attitude was getting worse and worse by the day; as if this new strength and confidence she had found was mingling with the spoiled little girl she swore she wasn't anymore. He could understand her having trust issues; spending time with people like Cersei and Littlefinger had obviously left a grievous mark upon her.

"How do we know she isn't a threat? Targaryens are not known for their sanity or stability" Sansa replied with the same cold accusing voice she seemed to be using a lot these days.

"She saved my life…she didn't have to. It would have been easy for her to let me die beyond the wall on a suicide mission I insisted upon, but she flew North with her dragons and saved us; losing one in the process. She looks at the Dragons like her children; and one of them died…one of her sons. Does that sound like a madwoman to you?" Jon asked; fists beginning to clench in anger.

"She is not her father, Sansa" Jon stood up and tried his best to quench this flame that continued to be growing within him.

"You are right, she is much prettier" Sansa remarked.

Jon had to admit; he had trouble resisting to smile to himself, pretty was also a severe understatement.

"Tell me…did you bend the knee to save the North, or because you love her?" Sansa asked with that same tone.

Jon felt the fire ignite again as he looked up at Sansa and approached slowly; his walk not betraying his inner conflict.

"I bent the knee…after she had sworn to fight with us. She didn't need my loyalty or my word to help her claim the throne from Cersei once we were done, she didn't even ask. I chose to bend the knee because when she told me that; whilst grieving for her fallen son…I saw her; not the Dragon Queen, not the Breaker of Chains, not any of those many titles she has…I saw Daenerys…I saw her and saw that she deserved my loyalty more than anyone I've ever met" Jon spoke slowly; resisting the urge to grind his teeth in anger.

"And even then…when I pledged my loyalty to her; she said she hoped she deserved it with tears filling her eyes. She is the Queen I choose, Sansa. And nothing you say will change that" Jon finished; feeling the fire die down within him.

When Jon said the words; he could see Sansa absorb them bit by bit, her defiant look of mistrust turning to one of shame. Sansa knew her Brother was not a lair by any means; he was the most honourable man she knew next to father. In that moment; he looked and sounded so much like Eddard it was scary. She felt like a little girl being scolded by father for being a pain in the neck.

"I'm…I'm sorry Jon, I didn't mean to…" Sansa replied.

"Don't apologize to me, Sansa. If you want to know what kind of person Daenerys is; then speak to her, talk to her and her people; and you will see why I bent the knee" Jon reached up and cupped Sansa's cheek, she was still his little sister…despite being taller than him.

Suddenly the doors burst open, standing there with a terrified expression plastered on his face and sweat dripping down his brow was a Stark Bannerman. Whatever it was he wanted; it was important enough to burst in unannounced.

"My Lord! My Lady!" his voice ragged with panting.

"What is it?" Sansa asked.

"The Wall! It…the Wall has fallen!"

**Well the peace and quite wasn't going to last forever was it? Had a lot of fun writing this chapter to be fair, hopefully you guys liked it too. **

**Also, fair warning; My Euron in this is closer to the Book version of Euron than the show (after a while the frat boy pirate just didn't do it for me) making him more of a threat just ups to tension in my opinion. **

**Also, who was that mystery man, North of the Wall? I think you guys know ;) **

**Please be sure to tell me what you thought about this chapter lads and lasses, it will help my drive and continue to drive the demons away as we inch closer to the….*sigh*…season 8 finale.**

**I'm sorry Emilia, I'm sorry Daenerys, you will always be our Queen, no matter what they say or do to you. With every bit of my British pride I say Long live the Queen!**


	3. A Dragon in Winter

**Yeah guys, before anyone asks: Nope…I'm not talking about episode 6, I've already beaten that dead horse into a bloody smear. Like I've said before…Season 8 doesn't exist for me anymore and D&D can die in a slow car fire for all I care. **

**Now for the healing process to continue. I will not let those fucks ruin my favourite characters and their stories for me, unlike D&D I will put effort and love into this story because WE ALL DESERVE ACTUAL CLOSURE.**

**Oh, just one thing, I wrote a lot of this chapter to "Stay a Thousand Years" from the Season 8 soundtrack (Thanks Ramin, your soundtrack helped me let it all out…I feel he shipped Jon and Dany as much as we did as their theme was the best). Nothing like a masterpiece like that to help reignite the flame within.**

**Also…thank you to those of you coming with me on this journey; we owe it to ourselves and the characters we loved to see things through, together. To whatever end we see fit. The ending of TV show wasn't what I wanted to see end…I, like all of us, wanted to see the last chapter of the story.**

**To see everything, we loved and lost both rewarded and celebrated. To remember all the great times this series gave us, to remember all the shocks, the laughs, the uncomfortable moments, the heart wrenching moments and every tense feeling of dread in between.**

**Now…before I start crying on my keyboard.**

**Chapter 3: A Dragon in Winter**

The halls of the Red Keep had not seen such isolation and silence since the reign of Aerys, the Mad King. The halls were bereft of any life; any artistry; any passion or sign that the ruler sitting on the Iron Throne cared for anything more than retaining their power over the seven kingdoms.

Sat there in the Throne of Aegon the Conqueror; was the self-proclaimed Queen of the Seven Kingdoms herself, Cersei Lannister.

Stood to her right as always was the towering figure of her constant protector; Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that rides. His armour had been modified since last time; to allow greater mobility while still clad in full plate, his armour now a blacked version of his original suit; tower helm included, but instead of an iron grey; his was pitch black with silver accents.

In his hands he held a claymore sized greatsword, the blade shimmering in the firelight; a grim reminder of what he was. A walking death sentence.

To her left was the master of whispers, Hand of the Queen and Grand Maester of the capital, Qyburn. Gathered in front were the 5 Queensgaurd all dressed in black full plate; none of them coming close to the intimidating figure that was Clegane. Standing nearby in his simple black leather garb was the royal executioner, Ilyn Payne. The same scowl adorning his face as he stood there glaring at anyone that looked at him.

Never had a monarch had so few advisors; accompanied only by a towering attack dog and a disgraced Maester that did the most unnatural things one in his position could do.

The halls remained silent as the gathered peasantry and lords waiting on baited breath for their Queen to speak. Then as it seemed as if the Queen was about to speak; the doors to the throne room swung wide open.

In stepped the ratty and sea-worn figure of the King of the Iron Islands, Euron Greyjoy, flanked by two Ironborn reavers. His long black hair looking wet like it had been drenched in brine, his hands deep in the pockets of his long overcoat. Following Euron was a mad with short dirty blonde hair, a sculpted face and golden armour adorning his figure.

Euron, with no regards for anyone present simply made a beeline for the Throne and the woman sat on it. Lords and Knights moved out of the way of the clearly unstable man, the Gold armoured man following close behind.

"Your Grace, I bring you yet another gift…an army" Euron smiled and gave an over the top bow.

Cersei's face remained in the same neutral smirk it seemed to stay in these days. As the Golden armoured man stepped forth and gave her a proper bow with al the curtesy of a man fulfilling a business transaction.

"Captain Strickland I presume?" Cersei asked.

"Yes, your Grace, the Golden Company is at your command" Strickland replied with a nod.

"How many men fight under you?" she asked; her expression never changing.

"20,000 your grace, 5000 mounted and as promised…100 war elephants" Strickland replied.

Cersei smiled; they had a feeling that the Elephants would be hard to transport across the seas, but Qyburn had offered some helpful advice to Euron's ship builders, building cargo ships with enforced hulls capable of transporting them across the narrow sea.

"Good…I expect them ready for battle as soon as possible" Cersei smiled. The gathered lords and knights watching with weary eyes and hushed whispers as the commander of the Golden company left.

One man stepped forward, a man as tall as Euron, wearing the attire of a Westerland lord; a single broach of a boar holding red cloak against his attire. He was an older man, about the same age Lord Tywin would have been, a scar crossing his left eye and claiming a portion of his upper lip.

Roland Crakehall, one of her father's oldest serving bannermen and one of the senior lords of the Westerlands. House Crakehall wasn't the largest, or the most powerful of the Westerland houses, but their ferocity matched if not surpassed that of House Lannister. Their sigil was that of a Black boar adorned in white stripes.

Standing nearby was his last living son, Ser Lyle Crakehall. An imposing man of great strength, head to toe in plate armour with a mace and a longsword dangling from his hip. Long locks of black hair with a single white streak, his face adorned with a handlebar moustache and littered with scars of battles past.

The only men of the Westerlands larger and more ferocious than him were the brothers of house Clegane. He had earned the nickname the 'Strongboar' through his battle prowess and sheer ferocity.

"Your Grace" Roland spoke out loud.

"Lord Crakehall, please…speak" Cersei announced; the smirk never leaving her face.

"Your Grace; I must ask the whereabouts of Ser Jamie. We have not seen him since our parlay with the Dragon Queen. Last I heard he intended for our forces to head North…for the war" Roland asked; steadfast and without an ounce of fear.

"Ser Jamie is a traitor to the Seven Kingdoms; a traitor to House Lannister; and a traitor to the Crown. He abandons us; his people to fight besides Unsullied slaves and Dothraki savages; to bend the knee to the spawn of the mad king" Cersei practically hissed.

"But if what he said was true…then we are simply waiting with baited breath, for the hope that the Northern forces can defeat the dead" Another Lord stepped forward, dressed in Lannister commander armour. An older man with grey hair and a stern face, Leo Lefford of House Lefford, another Bannerman of house Lannister.

"If what Ser Jamie told us is true, then all that matters is protecting our people in the only war that matters" Roland continued.

"The war? What other war is there besides defending our land against foreign scum?" Cersei replied with the same look that plastered her face these days.

"With all respect your grace…if what the Northmen say is true; then all of our peoples are in danger. Ser Jamie saw what they brought to the dragonpit, you saw what was in the dragonpit. Now please tell us…why aren't we marching North?" Roland asked; beginning to show his frustrations.

The nods and murmurs of agreement sounded amongst the Southern Lords gathered here. for hundreds of years the lords of the Westerlands stood behind House Lannister, behind Tywin and behind Jamie, now behind Cersei.

But Cersei was unlike the other Lannisters they had served.

Yes, Tywin had his flaws; he was ruthless and cold and calculating, but he was not an idiot. If he were alive all of their forces would be marching North to face the great threat, they all suspected was real. Even Jamie for all his flaws was a man that cared for the people; both Leo and Roland respected and followed him not because his last name was Lannister; but because he was a good man.

"If you march North, you will be branded traitors and oath breakers. And upon returning in one shape or another; you will be given a traitor's death. I am your Queen; and you are sworn to obey me" Cersei announced.

The Lords could only watch as the Mountain glared at the two Lords, his hands gripping the handle of his massive greatsword tightly; ready to obey his Queen's commands at a moment's notice.

"I beg your forgiveness My Queen. We should not have doubted you" Roland bowed after a tense silence that lasted all of 5 seconds.

"You are excused my lords" Cersei smirked to herself as the Lords of the Westerlands began to leave the room, their knights and guards with them.

Lyle gave one lingering look to the Mountain, the scared face of the Strongboar meeting the cold dead eyes of the creature formerly known as Gregor Clegane. Lyle was never an admirer of the Clegane's; they were both mad dogs posing as knights in his mind. Unlike them he cared about honour and justice and the protection of the realm. And while Lyle's main grudge was with the Hound, the Mountain was centrepiece of everything wrong with this world.

It took a great deal of restraint for the Strongboar to not launch at the Mountain and cave in his skull with his mace; but begrudgingly he turned and followed his father out of the hall.

Once all other had left the room, there stood Euron Greyjoy. His hands firmly in his pockets and his long sea worn hair dangling in front of his face.

"I thought I excused you" Cersei spoke out loud.

"I'm not a Lord. I'm a king, my love" Euron smiled. Cersei had to admit that for a Sea Pirate captain, he was quite dashing and handsome; his wet hair did not detract from his rugged good looks.

"You did well bringing the Golden Company here, for that I am eternally grateful" Cersei replied.

"Your thanks are not necessary my Queen. Everything I do, I do for the most beautiful woman in the world" Euron smiled as he bowed his head.

"Then you are excused" Cersei smiled.

"Forgive me My Queen…but our Kingdom is without an heir, and I believe it is time that we fix that problem" Euron took a step towards Cersei.

The Queensgaurds' hands all flew to the handles of their swords; while the Mountain hoisted up his claymore with a wring of metal cutting through air. Euron stopped in his tracks; he was a skilled fighter but he knew his limits. And killing 6 highly trained knights and whatever the Mountain was; was not within his power.

"You want a Whore…buy one. You want a Queen…earn her" Cersei smirked as she spoke.

"I believe I have…I've given you the greatest fleet the world has ever seen. I brought you an army; I brought you justice for your daughter; I brought death and destruction to your enemies…I gave you everything you asked for…while I wait for you, my heart is breaking my Queen" Euron replied with a smirk of his own.

"I've executed men for less" Cersei's smirk disappeared.

"They were lesser men" Euron replied quickly; knowing exactly what she was thinking. He was the only ally she had, if he left, she was lost.

She may be sitting on the Throne; but he was the King here; he was the one that wielded all the power. If the Mountain cleaved him in two; then the Iron Fleet would sail away, leaving King's landing vulnerable.

Cersei stood and went to leave; but as she did, she looked back and met eyes with Euron; still standing there with his hands in the pockets of his overcoat. He smiled with those eyes that had seen the world; that had seen the mysteries and horrors from all the corners of the globe.

She motioned for him to follow her. Euron smiled and walked past the Queensguard with a smirk plastered across his face. As he passed the Mountain and saw those red, dead, bloodshot eyes; he smirked and whispered.

"Wish me luck big boy" he smirked as he felt the breath of the Monster clad in steel.

* * *

The Silence rocked along the waves; waves splashing against the sides of the Mighty warship. In the dead of night; the Silence was working on a skeleton crew; a skeleton crew of mutes did not make the ship anymore lively than usual.

Euron's Mutes did not do much aboard the Silence, due to the fact they could not communicate the most they could do was walk around; do maintenance on the ship and keep watch.

*TWIP!*

An arrow shaft found its way into the head of one of the Mutes on guard.

Quickly in succession.

*TWIP**TWIP**TWIP*

Another three guards fell to the deck of the ship; arrow shafts imbedded in their eyes and faces, killing them quietly in an instant. Walking silently on the deck of the Silence were three men, all clad in black, holding short bows nocked with arrows; ready to let them fly at a moment's notice.

The three men moved to the bowels of the ship; peppering with arrows or slitting the throats of any that stood in the way of their goal.

Yara's eyes slowly and groggily opened; every part of her was sore, the beating Euron had given her had left her black and blue in the worst places. Her bones ached, her muscles clenched and her head rung like the loudest bells.

The sound that woke her up was one she knew well.

*WITHRACK!*

The sound of a short axe being imbedded in a skull.

The door opened and down dropped the corpse of one of Euron's men; Axe deeply intimate with his face. In stepped one of the men in black; reaching down and retrieving his axe from the Mute, chunks of blood and grey matter spurting from the wound as he did.

Theon.

Yara's eyes widened in surprise at first; but narrowed again once she remembered what he had done. Theon quickly cut open the binds that held her to the post and helped her to her feet. Yara cracked her neck from side to side before grabbing Theon by the scruff of his neck and Headbutting him in the face.

Theon fell to the floor; dazed but understanding, he deserved that.

Yara held out her hand to her little brother.

She looked at him with gratitude in her eyes; she hated what he did, but he had saved her when she needed him. Ironborn had no place for petty little grudges; and Theon knew that as his sister pulled him to his feet that all was forgiven.

All they had to do now, was get the hell out of here.

* * *

"She's gone insane!" Roland grunted in a quiet voice.

"She is under a lot of pressure. Having to manage a war; her brother leaving her side" one of the other Lords replied just as quietly.

"If the Threat in the North is real, we cannot sit here and wait for it to descend upon us!" Leo threw his voice into the debate.

The Lords of the Westerlands and their Knights had retreated to another part of the Red Keep; all sat around a large gathering table with wine in their cups and scowls on their brows.

"She is our Queen; we cannot betray her, we swore oaths" one Knight spoke up.

"Even if those Oaths cause the deaths of everyone in Westeros?" Lyle asked back.

"She is betraying us; our people, our families will die if we listen to her. If not by the Dead than by Dragonfire when the Dragon Queen and the Wolf King come south. Ser Jamie was right to leave when he did" Roland cursed before taking a long swig of wine.

"When did it get this fucking hard?" Leo said with his hand to his forehead; trying to rub the stress from his mind.

"House Lannister used to be proud Lions. Say what you want about Tywin; but the man was strong, he had purpose, he led us like a proud Lion. Jamie has that much of his father in him at least; but Cersei? She is mangy cat if ever I saw one" Lyle spoke up; his deep booming voice commanding utter respect.

He would make a fine lord one day; but right now, he was a Knight, a warrior, a champion of the people of the Westerlands.

"That Mangy cat is our Queen"

"We haven't had a King or Queen worth following for decades. Robert was a broken man, Joffrey was a vicious cunt, Tommen was a weak little simp; and Cersei is a disaster waiting to happen" Lyle made his opinion clear to everyone.

"She already blew up the Sept of Baelor, how long before she wants to set our entire city on fire?" Leo asked.

"Those are viscous rumours; made by our enemies to…"

"Stop being Blind. She didn't even mourn Tommen's death…she took the throne before his blood was even cold. She isn't anymore a Queen than Aerys was a King" Lyle almost spat.

"She brought us together under the pretence that we were defending our land from foreign scum…yet she brings Mercenaries from Essos…has she no faith in us at all?" Roland asked the others rhetorically.

"She brought them here to replace us. Like we are pawns on a chess board; use us up and then buy more when she is running low. If and when the Dragon Queen heads south, who do you think will be on the front lines? The worn-out soldiers tired of fighting? Or the bought and paid for brigands and mercenaries?" Lyle asked, following his father's thinking.

"At least the Targaryen Queen has people that follow her out of love; the same for the King in the North" another Knight spoke up.

Murmurs of agreement went around the room as the miserable Lords contemplated their situation. Too long it had been since they had a leader worth following; Jamie was a fine knight and commander, but he was no king, despite all of Lord Tyrion's quips and wit he was still just a lord. Tywin was the only man they followed into battle with utter confidence; even during the war of Five Kings Tywin did what he did to save lives.

"What do we follow her out of? Pity? Fear? An ignorant brand of loyalty where fealty is never rewarded?" Roland questioned.

"We should have marched North with Ser Jamie" Leo murmured before drinking again.

A knocking on the door snapped the Lords out of their stupor, Roland nodded to one of his men to answer the door. The Crakehall guard keeping a hand on his sword as he slowly opened the door; when it creaked open there stood a child, barely seven or eight years old; covered in rags.

"It's…a child My Lord?" the guard announced.

"What?" Roland turned in his chair with a confused looked plastered across his face.

"What do you want?" the guard asked the child.

"A message for Lord Crakehall" the child held out a scroll to the guard which he took; like a flash the child sprinted away, quickly vanishing from sight.

"For you, my lord" the guard handed the scroll to Roland Crakehall.

The lord took the scroll and inspected the seal upon it; the three headed dragon of house Targaryen, the symbol of Fire and Blood; the symbol of the Dragon Queen herself.

With a quickly glance to the other lords, Roland broke the seal and unwound the scroll before beginning to read. Within seconds his eyes widened before passing it to Leo, who passed it to Lyle and the other lords and knights afterwards.

"Do you think?" Leo asked.

"I believe so…Let's hear him out" Roland replied as his son Lyle read the message.

"We once bent the knee to Dragons…then to Stags and Lions…maybe its time for a Dragon again" he said with a glint in his eyes.

* * *

The snow of winter was upon them; as peppered white fell from the heavens, Daenerys Targaryen stood on the battlements of Winterfell in her white fur coat. Standing nearby was her ever faithful Ser Jorah Mormont, his hands clasped in front of him as he watched her admire the snow.

Sat near her, surprisingly, was Jon's Direwolf Ghost. The huge white wolf barely left her alone since she arrived; if nothing else she had definitely made a friend in the large canine.

"It never ceased to amaze me" Jorah smiled with a shake of his head.

"What does?" Dany asked.

"Whether it be in scorching sun, on the briny seas, or in the snows of the North…you are a vision my Queen" he replied with a loving smile.

Dany had come to accept the fact that Jorah was deeply and madly in love with her; and even though she would never love him the same way he loved her; she would always allow him to speak his peace. With a smile Dany replied "I always thought the North would be without its beautiful sights, that it would be a dreary place with no redeemable qualities…but I'm glad to see I was wrong"

"…Besides; I think the snow matches my hair" she chuckled; scratching Ghost behind the ears when he began nuzzling her yet again.

"The North has always had its charms; the Wolfswood; the Wall, even the Crypts of Winterfell had their little charms. I remember back home on Bear Island; I used to love playing in the snow, my father watching me from the high walls" Jorah smiled to himself.

"I honestly can't imagine you playing in the snow" Dany chuckled.

"We've all been children at some point in our lives, Your Grace" Jorah replied.

"Not all of us" Dany murmured; loud enough for Jorah to hear.

Jorah noticed the slight hint of sadness in his Queen's voice when she said that; she never spoke about her childhood to anyone; it was something she obviously kept close to her chest if even Jorah didn't know about it. All he knew was what an abusive Brother Viserys had turned out to be in the end, selling her to Khal Drogo like she was livestock.

It infuriated him sometimes, that he never got the chance to put the bastard in his place. If anyone did something like that to his Queen now, they would get cut down like wheat.

"I imagined you would be taller" a voice broke the silent contemplation of the Knight.

Quickly turning; Dany and Jorah met eyes with a young girl, dressed in Northern leather with a sword and dagger sheathed on her belt. Whoever this girl was; she had great skill in stealth to sneak up on a guard as diligent as Jorah; and even more skilled to not alert Ghost.

Though the Direwolf's lack of a reaction was a good sign; whoever this girl was, Ghost trusted her. Daenerys thought she had a very Stark look, more like Jon than Sansa; with the black hair and grey eyes. Dany didn't need to ponder very long to figure out that this was the infamous Arya Stark.

"You must be Arya; I don't believe we have had the pleasure of meeting" Dany offered a hand to the stoic girl.

Arya's face slowly turned into a smile as she reached forward and took Dany's hand, Dany was quite shocked at how firm her grip was; for a girl of her size she was stronger than she looked.

"Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. And to set the record straight you aren't exactly Duncan the tall yourself" Dany smirked; earning a slight chuckle from Arya.

"My Brother wants to speak to you; he thought this would be a good way for us to meet" Arya gestured for them to proceed to the main hall.

"He's told me a lot about you. On our entire boat ride here, he couldn't stop telling me about his hellion of a younger sister" Dany told Arya as they walked side by side.

"He only told you the good things I hope"

"They all sounded like good things to me" Dany smiled.

The Targaryen Queen, her faithful bear, The Assassin girl and the Direwolf all made their way to the main halls, all the way Arya and Dany making idle chit-chat. It didn't take very long for Dany to see why Jon loved his little sister; she was strong willed, quick witted, very unconventional which earned a bit of Dany's curiosity.

"My father always told us stories about the Targaryens; about Aegon and his sisters, Rheanys and Visenya" Arya told Dany as they walked.

"My Brother told me those stories…though he always made it a fact to concentrate on Aegon himself; never Visenya or Rheanys" Dany replied.

"Visenya was always an idol of mine. A strong and powerful woman; who didn't show fear…unlike all the other maidens in stories and songs" Arya smiled to herself.

"I didn't know Westerosi still told stories of us after the Rebellion" Dany smirked.

"They didn't…but my father believed it was foolish to be ignorant of the past. Like him or hate him; Aegon the Conqueror made this world what it is; and his sisters helped him accomplish that" Arya continued; boots crunching the snow beneath them.

Dany wanted to make friends with this girl; she was definitely a woman after her own heart, someone that wanted to be something more than what other people told her; a free spirit. Then whilst hearing Arya speak so fondly about Visenya, she had an idea.

"I could give you a ride on Drogon if you would like" Dany offered.

"I'm…I'm sorry what?" Arya asked with brows raised so high in surprise she thought they would shoot off her face.

"You seem to be enthralled with the idea of Visenya…I wager you always imagined riding Vaegar into battle, Dark Sister whistling in the air" Dany predicted.

For the first time in a long time; Arya felt a spark of childlike wonder and awe. Here she was; being offered a ride on the back of a real-life dragon by a genuine Targaryen. She had to suppress her urges and not immediately start bouncing off the walls in excitement. She wanted to like the woman her Brother was enthralled with; but she also wanted to remain cautious.

But it was hard to remain cautious when someone offered you one of your childhood dreams on a silver platter. Arya had to think this over; she wanted nothing more than to ride on the back of a Dragon; to feel the wind blowing through her hair as a mighty beast of legend soared through the skies with no restraint.

Arya would have to dwell on this later.

For now; she had a job to do.

* * *

"We have to evacuate every town North of Winterfell as soon as possible; they will be caught completely unawares; start sending ravens to them and the Night's Watch immediately" Jon ordered Wolkan from his place at the head of the table.

"Yes, my Lord" Wolkan bowed before leaving to accomplish his task.

All the Northern Lords had gathered with the exception of Lord Umber; whom had left for The Last Hearth to evacuate his people. Many of them looked more tired and ragged than usual; bags under their eyes, hair shaggy and mismanaged.

It was not a good time to be alive and in a position of power.

Jon and Sansa sat at the table; Bran in his wheelchair only a few feet away. Many of Daenerys' advisors had gathered; the only ones missing being Dany herself, Jorah the Andal and Arya stark.

"We need every able-bodied man working on felling trees; digging trenches, sharpening pikes, building fortifications. Every Blacksmith and craftsman we have working on Dragonglass preparation. We don't have the luxury of having time on our side anymore. The war will come to our doorstep much sooner than we had planned; and we have to be ready for it" Jon announced.

The doors to the hall opened; and in stepped Daenerys, Jorah and Arya; followed closely by Ghost. As soon as she entered the room; she made a straight move for Bran, from what Arya had told her she had questions. Jon stood up to greet her; but Dany's objective was obvious as she stood in front of Bran and glared at him.

"What happened?" she glared at the Stark boy who looked at her with no emotion.

"Your grace…" Sansa stood up but was quickly interrupted.

"Tell me!" Dany grit her teeth as she stared at the crippled boy.

"They have your dragon; Viserion is one of them now, he belongs to the Night King" Bran said as monotone as possible.

Jon saw how this rattled Dany; Viserion was her son; her child. And Bran had just given her this news like it was nothing. He remembered how shaken and vulnerable she was on the ship voyage to king's landing; he knew how much Viserion's death affected her. And he could see the Northern Lords beginning to whisper to each other at seeing her reaction.

She wasn't breaking down in tears but she was obviously shaken up. Jon walked over to her a placed a comforting hand on her shoulder; it wasn't easy news to receive, hearing that your dead child was now slave to an icy necromancer.

"Your Grace; if you would please" Jon directed Dany to her seat where she could regain her composure.

"How in seven hells are we supposed to fight a dragon?" Lord Manderly questioned.

"With dragons…we have two; the Night King only has one" Jon replied firmly.

"How long do we have before they get here?" Lord Glover asked apprehensively.

"Not long; They'll kill everything north of Winterfell before coming here, they want to enforce their army for the conflict…we have about a week at most" Jon replied.

"Can we get preparations done in a week?" Lord Cerwyn asked.

"Do we have a choice?" Lyanna Mormont replied with a raised brow; shutting lord Cerwyn up.

"Grey Worm, have whatever Unsullied you can spare assist in the preparation of defences" Daenerys ordered the commander of the unsullied in High Valyrian; raising a few eyebrows from the Northern Lords and ladies that had never heard the tongue spoken in person.

"Yes, my Queen" Grey Worm replied in High Valyrian with a nod.

"Qhono, prepare your best riders to assist in evacuation of the northern settlements" Daenerys ordered in Dothraki; yet another tongue the Northerners had never heard.

"It will be done Khaleesi" Qhono nodded with a fist to his chest.

"My forces will assist in whatever way they can. My Dothraki and their horses can assist in the evacuation of civilians while my Unsullied will help in preparation of defences here in Winterfell" Daenerys explained.

The way in which the Queen effortlessly switched between High Valyrian, Dothraki and back to the common tongue was very impressive, most of the Northerners could barely get by with their common. Most people in the North had trouble reading; yet alone speaking multiple tongues, so it was easy to see how a bi-lingual master like Daenerys would turn heads with her skills.

Jon smirked to himself _'she keeps finding new ways of surprising them'_ he thought.

* * *

The waves splashed against the wooden hull of the Greyjoy ships; only a small umber of them sailed upon the sea, but every one of them was manned by Ironborn loyal to their Queen; Yara Greyjoy.

Standing on with her hands leaning on the rail; Yara looked out to open sea. It had been a rough few hours; but she was recovering fast. Theon kept his distance as respectfully as possible; but stayed near enough that he was available for Yara's assistance.

"I don't blame you for leaving. I was an idiot for thinking what Ramsey did to you would be easily removed" Yara spoke out loud.

"It's no excuse. I was a coward and left you…" Theon began but was quickly interrupted by his sister.

"Don't you dare start this shit again. You came back and that is what matters; Euron would have killed you if you tried to save me back then, he could have easily slit my throat with his axe if you even tried. It's all in the past now" Yara cupped the sides of her brother's face; her tone strong and sure.

"What do we do now, my queen?" Theon asked.

"We take back the Iron Islands; Euron's forces are anchored at King's Landing, that means barely any are defending Pyke" Yara said as she walked over to the bridge of the ship.

"What about our forces North?" Theon asked.

"Queen Daenerys will need somewhere for her forces to retreat to if Winterfell falls" Yara explained before turning and meeting eyes with Theon.

"You wish to fight with them?" Yara asked; knowingly.

"I let them down once…I cannot let them fight this battle alone; Sansa, Arya, Bran, Jon…they were my family a lifetime ago. I have to help them however I can…if you would allow me" Theon looked to Yara.

The Ironborn Queen could see the storm return to her Brother's eyes; the snivelling creature known as Reek was dead; and the Mighty Kraken within Theon had been reborn. She smiled; she knew where Theon's loyalties lied, he would fight for her if she asked him to; but he owed the Starks a debt that needed to be repaid.

"You are Ironborn little brother…if you want something, you take it" Yara smiled; holding out her arm.

Theon clasped her arm tightly "What is dead may never die" Yara smiled warmly at her brother "What is dead may never die" Theon replied proudly before being brought into a strong hug by his sister.

"But kill the bastards anyway" she whispered in his ear.

* * *

Daenerys stared at the flames intensely; for so long her heritage was born of fire, of flames and the destruction that they caused. The crackling of the fire here was a sound that gave her comfort; during her time with the Dothraki all those years ago; the fire let her know who she was. Fire drove away the cold; fire was not just destruction but a way of preserving life if it was controlled.

Fire is what gave Dragons their power.

Dany had to admit that she had trouble controlling the fire within her at times; but that was the very nature of power, that it was dangerous; that like fire it could spread if not kept in check. If power was easy to control then everyone would have it.

All these thoughts of fire stemmed from what the crippled brother of Jon Snow had told her.

'_They have your dragon; Viserion is one of them now, he belongs to the Night King'_ the heartless way he said it to her still chilled her to the bone.

Viserion; her sweet boy. Unlike Drogon; Viserion was a gentle soul, unlike Rheagal; Viserion was patient and tempered. Dany loved all three of her sons with all her heart, but Viserion was her gentle boy; her sweet boy. Viserion's name was utterly ironic; as he was nothing like her brother, as far as dragons went; Viserion would never harm her or his brothers.

Drogon always felt like he had to assert himself as the dominant male of the three; and Rheagal always enjoyed scrapping with his dark scaled brother. But Viserion would always hang nearby; just enjoying the company of his blood; only getting involved in Rheagal or Drogon forced him too.

Dany remembered him as a little hatchling; his white/gold scales shimmering beautifully. His little eyes and his adorable little mewlings; she loved him for everything he was, her sweet, gentle, innocent little boy.

And that icy bastard had not only taken him from her; but had turned him into a slave.

She would have to kill him; put an end to her own son, put him down like a rabid dog or else he would kill thousands.

Tears began to fill Dany's eyes as she remembered the way he used to coo at her; at how he used to nuzzle against her cheek whenever she brought him up to her face. The rest of the world saw them as monsters; but they were not, they were intelligent; they had personalities; they were every much as precious and beautiful as any other sentient creature.

She hadn't felt grief like this since losing Rheago; her beautiful baby boy that never took a breath in this world, the child she may as well as killed herself with her mistake of trusting a witch. She never even got to see his mangled and deformed little body; Jorah had spared her that pain.

"Your grace?" a familiar Northern accent filled the room.

Dany turned and met eyes with Jon; he was trying to look as professional as possible but once he saw the tears filling her eyes; he shut the door and instantly wrapped his arms around her, giving her his most gentle and loving embrace.

"He took him…my baby boy…he took him from me" Dany cried into Jon's shoulder. Jon was the one person she could truly be vulnerable with; the one person she could drop her mask to.

"He'll pay for it Dany; I swear it by all the gods he will pay for it" Jon whispered back to her; fire in his voice as he held her to him.

"I saw him sink…I saw him sink into the water…I thought that would stop them from taking him" Dany let her tears flow onto Jon's shoulder.

"Ssssh, it's alright my love…I'm here" Jon reached up and stroked Dany's soft silver locks. Feeling her like this was still surreal; to remember that this strong, beautiful woman was not without her weaknesses; her flaws. She was a mother; and she was grieving for her departed son, Jon had never fathered a child so he could not even begin to imagine that pain.

"I miss him Jon" Dany cried.

"I can't pretend to know a Parent's pain, Dany. But I've lost family, I lost Robb, Rickon, my uncle Benjen and my Father, and I was powerless to help them. For all those we've lost we have to stay strong; but for those we have left we have to remain stronger" Jon whispered to Dany; feeling her relax in his arms.

"The way your brother said it; has he always been so…so…" Dany tried to find the words.

"Heartless? No, its only a recent thing" Jon replied softly before pressing a gentle kiss on Dany's forehead.

Dany pulled away and gazed deeply into Jon's eyes; his soft steel grey eyes that held such fire within

"That day on the boat; I thought I had lost you. When you fell into the ice and disappeared, I thought I would never see you again" Dany cried; her hands coming up to rest on Jon's shoulders as he cupped her face in his hands.

"Jon I…I've never felt like this for anyone. I have loved and been loved in my life but; you…what I feel for you is more than I've ever felt for anyone" tears began to stream down Dany's cheeks as Jon wiped them away with his thumbs.

"Me neither. With you I feel…alive. More alive than I've ever felt; like a fire has been awoken inside of me. My entire life; even with my father, my siblings; even at the Wall or beyond…I've never felt more alive than when I'm with you" Jon whispered with every passion he could muster.

"Before I met you; all I cared about was the war against the dead, about defending the North and my home with my life. But I've never; never had anything to live for, nothing to look forward to, to cherish. Death could have come at any time and I would have faced it with no regrets. But when I met you that changed; I have something; someone to fight for now…" Jon held Dany close as humanly possible and gazed into her eyes with every bit of love he could muster.

"No matter what happens; no matter what horrors are coming for us; I promise you this, I will never leave you. As long as there is breath in my body; as long as blood runs through my veins, no matter what anyone here or south says…I will never leave you" Jon whispered with every ounce of Passion and love he could bring out.

Dany's soft and gentle hands reached up and cupped his face; her fingers as soft and gentle as the finest furs and just as, if not warmer. Dany's amethyst orbs gazed into steel grey as their breath mingled; the crackling fire being the only sound besides their heavy breaths.

"Thank you, Jon" Dany smiled as Jon leaned in and captured her lips in his own.

Jon and Dany's hands slowly caressed down each other's sides; Jon resting his left hand on Dany's hip and his right stroking her luscious neck, Dany's right-hand clasping Jon's back while the other tangled in his raven curls.

Their kissing became more and more passionate as the fire filled them; tongues clashed in a tender duel of passion and lust, both lovers needing to feel more skin, needing to see more of their other half. Dany gasped as Jon began leading her over to the bed; the backs of her knees feeling the corner of the bed.

Jon growled like a hungry wolf as his hands went straight for the bindings of her dress; Dany smiled against her Wolf's lips as her hands went straight for his belt; the sounds of leather being undone and bindings being unravelled filled the chambers. The crackling of the fireplace was nothing compared to the heat and passion that the Dragon Queen and her Wolf King were giving off.

Dany quickly threw Jon's belt to the floor; Longclaw clattering against the floor as she did, next to go were the bindings of his gambeson; her small precise fingers quickly going to work. Jon chuckled at the enthusiasm his Queen was showing and made sure to pepper her mouth with passionate kisses all the while.

The sound of Dany's gasps were like the finest music; the smell of her skin was intoxicating and the taste of her lips made him feel ready to take on the entire army of the dead by himself. Jon practically ripped Dany's dress from her form and began to work on her underclothes.

Soon both lovers stood in their chambers; naked as the day they were born. Jon pressed Dany close to his chest and relished in the feeling of her skin against his, it was unreal just how soft she felt beneath his fingers.

"Dany…Dany, I love you" Jon whispered hotly into her ear before attacking Dany's neck with passionate kisses and licks.

Dany gasped a sigh of pleasure as her eyes squeezed shut; the feeling of her Wolf claim her was making her mind go blank. Drogo had been passionate, Daario had been fun, but this was different, it was pure; perfect and it made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

Dany's right hand travelled up Jon's chest; feeling his scar littered torso, momentarily Jon recoiled as he felt Dany's fingers against the scar across his heart.

The two lovers stood there; panting as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes. Their pupils dilated and full of affection; Jon had never seen a sight more beautiful than Dany with her lips slighty parted and her silver locks framing her face. Dany had never known a man more handsome; so courageous; so brave, so worthy of her…perhaps too worthy.

That was a thought that never crossed her mind until she met Jon Snow; that she may be the one in out of her league. Dany reached up and cradled Jon's face in her hands; even after all this time he was still cautious about his scars. She ran her thumb down the scar adorning his left eye; his eyes softening even more as she did.

"I…I love you, Jon" her eyes began to tear up.

Jon wrapped his arms around Dany's waist; passionately meeting her lips, Dany's hands clasping his face as he lifted her off her feet and planted her firmly on the bed. Dany quickly found Jon trailing kisses down her neck; down to the valley between her breasts and to her navel.

Dany propped herself up on her elbows as Jon went lower; his soft kisses against her skin were pleasant, as was the feeling of his hands trailing down her sides to her legs. Dany was no stranger to Jon's bedroom practises; she knew what he could do with that mouth of his, so she lay back, closed her eyes and bit her lower lip awaiting the nirvana her lover would bestow on her.

To say Jon was talented with his tongue was a gross understatement.

Dany's reaction was instant as her mouth widened in a silent gasp; her wolf began going to work on pleasing his Queen, letting every ounce of tension leave her body.

Jon loved pleasing Dany in this manner; tasting her succulent flesh between his lips as he pleasured her in the most intimate of ways. Why didn't all men please their women this way? As he tasted Dany, he could hear her struggling to keep herself quiet.

They weren't on the boat anymore; they had to be subtle or at least more subtle than they had been. That meant he couldn't make Dany scream the way he used to back on the boat; which was a horrible shame.

Her scream alone made him feel like a real wolf; but her whimpers and gasps made him feel more. He had felt like a wolf in the past; during times of great hardship, but right now and whenever he was with her.

He felt like a Dragon.

Dany bit her hand; trying to stifle any noise but her short gasps and whimpers whenever he licked up her slit.

"Jon, please…now" Dany panted.

Jon left his place between her legs and slid up to her; meeting face to face with his lover and Queen. The fire in his eyes burned into her soul; when they first met, they were opposites, Fire and Ice, but now with him looming over her; she could see a fire that matched her own.

A fire she had never thought anyone else could command.

Dany let out a silent gasp as she felt her love enter her; her womanhood yielding to the man that had conquered her heart. Jon's right hand found its way beneath Dany and held onto the small of her back, his left grabbing the back of her head to meet her in a passionate kiss.

Their passions sounded throughout the room as the dragon and her wolf made love; the rustling of sheets as Dany's right hand clutched the bed lining beneath her and her left hound the dark curls of her lover.

It wasn't long until their passions came to a head; with Dany's gasping and Jon's panting mixing in the space between their lips. Jon's hand clutching the back of Dany's head coming around to cup her soft cheek and caress her slender neck. The petite form and velvet soft skin of his lover fuelled his passions as he gave her everything he had.

"Jon…I…I…" Dany gasped; her violet eyes gazing deeply into Jon's metallic grey orbs.

"I know Dany…let go for me" Jon whispered passionately as his thumb caresses her throat.

'_Love comes in at the eyes Khaleesi'_ Doreah's words echoed in the back of her mind. And as Dany came to her peak; she saw the fiery passion hidden beneath Jon's gaze; she had been looking for home for so long.

It was only here; in the arms of Jon Snow that Daenerys Targaryen found her true place; her true home.

With one final gasp; Dany let go; all of her tension, all of her sadness, all of the fear and anguish she had been suffering when she heard of Viserion's fate washed away as she basked in the love that Jon provided her.

Jon released himself inside the woman he had pledged himself to, no, the goddess he had pledged himself to. Feeling her release around him was unlike any other feeling he had experienced. Something had brought them together; something had made sure they would meet; and whatever that something was; he would be eternally grateful to it.

As the Northern Wolf and his exotic Dragon lay there; panting and gasping, Jon rolled onto his back; Dany lay her head across his scarred chest and listened to his soft heartbeat. Basking in the afterglow of their union; both Jon and Dany lay there, the crackling of the fire and the slow and steady breaths leaving them now the only sounds in the room.

"I meant it…with every fibre of my being" Jon finally broke the silence; Daenerys looked up and cupped his cheek in her hand.

"Meant what?" she asked; the Dragon Queen gone; replaced with the woman named Dany.

"No matter what happens…I will never leave you" Jon whispered; taking Dany's hand and bringing it to his lips.

Dany smiled and placed a gentle, loving kiss to his lips before resting her head against his chest. Both the Wolf and the Dragon now content with resting in each other's arm; and for a few moments, forget about the evil slowly making its way towards Winterfell.

* * *

The cold of the North seemed to get more and more intense the closer one got to the wall, the closer you got the higher the chances you would get frostbite; especially when winter came. If the winds didn't claim whatever exposed flesh you had; then whatever had been set loose from beyond the wall certainly would.

One small village, barely even a hamlet; a couple of small farm buildings in close proximity to each other. The snow created a thick blanket of cold as death itself; the howling wind sounded like the largest pack of Direwolves ever assembled.

Tormund, Beric and the 6 survivors of Eastwatch, 3 free folk and 3 Night's Wachmen, stumbled through the snow; weapons drawn and ready for a battle as they inspected the surroundings for any wights that may be waiting in ambush.

That's when Tormund spotted it; a single stone hut with light emanating from inside, someone had started a fire inside. Tormund gave a few hand gestures to the remaining men; they nodded and slowly approached the building.

Once Tormund stood in front of the door; he had his cleaver sword at the ready in his right hand. Slowly and surely; Tormund pushed the door open; but what he wasn't expecting was for the door to swing wide open and for a man clad in black to flash a steel Longsword in his face.

Beric ignited his longsword and a collective battle cry was let out as they met their foes face to face.

"GET BACK HE'S GOT BLUE EYES!" Edd shouted as his men all drew their swords.

"I'VE ALWAYS HAD BLUE EYES!" Tormund shouted back; holding his arms out.

A moment of silence passed before Edd let out a sigh of relief; grabbing Tormund's extended hand and pulling him into a strong hug. With a loud pat on the back; Edd backed up and sheathed his sword before saying "Get inside and get warm".

A few minutes later; the remaining men had gathered around the megre fire; eating whatever leftover food the other had brought with them. Stale bread; dried meat and bland tasting ale and water was passed around to the survivors.

"I'm glad to see you lot survived. We thought when Eastwatch fell; every man would be walking with the Night King" Edd said; warming his hands over the fire.

"Sorry to disappoint you" Tormund replied after getting a mouthful of dried meat.

"Have the dead come through the village yet?" Beric asked; running a whetstone down his Longsword.

"We don't know; we didn't find any bodies, no blood…just empty homes" Edd replied.

"They could have evacuated. Falling back to Winterfell does seem like the best course with a gaping hole where Eastwatch used to be" Beric continued.

"King Crow's brother must have warned them when it happened. Little fucker is a warg after all, probably saw it while cawing on the top of the wall" Tormund said before ripping a piece of stale bread apart and shoving it down his maw.

"How did you get here so fast?" Beric asked.

"We took all the horses at Castle Black. No point manning the wall if the Dead have breached it; we came here hoping that if there were any survivors from Eastwatch we would meet here" Edd explained.

"Do you have enough for all of us?" Tormund asked.

"We have the horses stabled up a few huts down, a few of us will have to double up, but yes. Just a few days full gallop and we will be there before the dead" Edd replied; rubbing his hands together to get warm.

"…Shouldn't they be here already? I've seen those fuckers swarm like no one's business; yet they are still behind us" Tormund said with an uncomfortable chill to his voice.

"It doesn't make sense; they could have easily made it here before us. It's almost like they are waiting for something" Beric replied.

"Waiting for what? A fucking invitation?" Tormund replied.

"Well no matter the reason we…" Beric began to speak until everyone heard a sound.

A clicking sound; like the chittering of bones; quickly followed by the sound of pitter patter against the roof of the hut. Snow fell from in between the straw roof of the house; down and onto the fire. Tormund, Beric and Edd all exchanged glanced before all rising at the same time; along with the remaining 15 Free folk and Night's Watch.

They all drew their weapons and made their way to the door.

Tormund left first; and his eyes immediately went to the roof of the house to see what made the noise. He expected to see a skeletal wight or some kind of undead animal; but what he saw was much worse and much more terrifying. Something straight out of the stories his father would tell him on particularly bad nights.

There, sitting on the roof of the hut; was a Spider; a pale white spider larger than a wolf. Eight spindly legs adorned with spikes, huge bulbous red eyes with a mandible maw full of fangs and teeth.

"You've got to be fucking joking" Tormund cursed to whatever gods were listening.

The chittering sound that emanated from the Pale Spider sounded like the stuff of nightmares; as the other men emerged from the house as quietly as they could; the Spider seemed oblivious to their presence.

"Is that what I think it is?" Beric whispered to Tormund.

"Yeah…a sign that the gods fucking hate us" Tormund replied.

Another 3 Pale Spiders scurried up onto the roof from the other side; making the same unnatural chittering sounds as the first one did. Slimy drool slathered free from their maws as they chittered and chattered.

*Crack!*

A single Night's Watchman accidently stood on a stick buried beneath the snow; and in a moment of pure unadulterated dread, all 4 Pale Spiders glared at him. Those bright red unnatural eyes glaring right into his soul.

The man didn't even had time to react as all four of the abominations leapt onto him and began digging their huge fangs into his flesh, wrapping their horrible, gangly appendages around him to keep him from fighting back.

The snow around the man turned red as the Spiders tore his torso asunder; one Spider ripping his innards out of his belly and feasting on them as the man screamed out in terror, another spider wrapping its mandibles around his lower jaw and brutally tearing it from his face.

"FUCK!" Tormund shouted in horror as the Spider turned and let out an unholy screech; blood and flesh staining their once white faces red.

One Spider leapt at Tormund but was met with a Cleaver sword bearing down on its head. With a rain of blood and a crack of carapace; Tormund's cleaver sliced through its head and into its midsection.

Another Spider leapt at Beric; but his flaming Longsword sliced through one of its legs; making it give out a high-pitched screech of pain as the severed limb twitched and tried to walk by itself.

Tormund yelled out in shock as the Spider he had cleaved into continued to move and hiss; its cleaved head flopping around limply as the rest of its body continued to move. Beric quickly drove his flaming sword into the spider; setting it alight and causing it to screech loudly.

"TO THE HORSES!" Edd shouted as he made a full sprint towards the hut where the Horses had been stabled. The Pale spiders were too distracted with their still writhing and squirming meal; as they tore into his guts and devoured whatever warm flesh they could sink their mandibles into.

As soon as they came to the building however, they could hear the horses panicking inside; and that panic was immediately understood when they saw what was standing in front of the building. There; a large as a bear was a hulking beast, feline, with two huge sabre like fangs protruding from its upper jaw.

Its eyes were glowing blue and bits and pieces of its hide and flesh were missing; exposing bone beneath. Tormund recognised this beast; it was a Sabre cat, a native predator from beyond the wall. it was glaring right at them, baring its massive fans and its razor-sharp claws as it slowly crept towards them.

"I wish we brought some more of that fucking dragonglass" Tormund cursed as he readied himself. He would have been able to kill a live Sabre cat; but an undead one…with nothing but a piddly little dagger? They may has well have walked right into a fucking meatgrinder.

If the Sabre Cat didn't slaughter them; then the Spiders certainly would.

It leapt at one of the Free Folk that got too close and sank its massive incisors into his throat; blood sprayed from the wound as the man's throat was torn clean out, the white snow turning red once more.

A Night's Watchman tried to get in close with a Dragonglass dagger but when the Sabra cat swiped its huge paw; the man's hand went flying in a spray of red. Falling to his knees; the man barely had time to retreat before a Pale Spider leapt out of the snow and began tearing at his throat as he screamed.

Tormund, Beric and Edd all looked at each other; they all knew they would never make it out of this alive. They readied their weapons as more Pale spiders emerged with hungry eyes and slathering mandibles; the Sabre Cat slowly approaching.

All of a sudden one of the pale Spiders screeched as a massive shape leapt from the snow and brought its hooves down upon its arachnid body, crushing its head with an audible squish. Another Spider screeched before a fiery flail was brought down upon it; almost shattering its body to pieces before it scurried away and burned.

There, rearing on the back of a giant Elk; was a man clad head to toe in black; wielding a flaming chain flail.

"GET TO YOUR HORSES, NOW!" he yelled in a gruff Northern accent; before he charged the Sabre cat with his flail; the Predator snarling before the flail struck its head set it alight.

Tormund, Edd and Beric went into a mad dash; using this chance to get inside and get their horses. The mystery man fought off the Spiders and the sabre cat with his fiery flail; every time one of them got too close either the Elk would gore them with its antlers or the flail would make short work of them.

The Sabre Cat however finally got a good hit and sank its fangs into the neck of the Elk; causing the man to fall from his mount and into the snowy ground below. The Elk cried as the Sabre cat's fangs did their job; slicing into the jugular and killing it within seconds.

A Pale Spider leapt at the man; baring its deadly mandibles, only to be swiftly cut down when the man drew his sword. The rippled blade of Valyrian steel made short work of the Pale Spider as it was cleaved in half down the middle.

The Sabre Cat began to circle the man; as he held Dark Sister in both hands; waiting for the creature to pounce. The creature leapt at the man; who quickly almost expertly side stepped and swung his sword down; slicing off the Sabre cat's left leg.

The growling monster was not given time to recover at the man swung his Valyrian steel blade across its neck; slicing through bone and tendon to decapitate it.

The man sheathed Dark Sister at his hip and walked over to the now dead Elk; softly running his hand over the dead animal's fur "Thank you, boy. Rest" he whispered before setting the corpse alight with his flail.

The sound of horses neighing filled the air as Tormund, Beric, Edd and the other survivors came riding out of the building, kicking up snow as they approached the man at great speeds.

"COME ON!" Edd shouted as he pointed to one of the spare horses now left without a rider, the man quickly ran to the horse and leapt onto its back; kicking it into full gallop.

Riding at full gallop the men left the hamlet behind; the remaining Pale Spiders giving up on their pursuit and instead concentrating on devouring the corpses left behind. Needless to say, everyone was surprised by this mystery man.

Edd knew his attire; his clothes were the black leathers of the Night's Watch, and the sword he wore at his side was of the finest quality Edd had ever seen. Edd had to admit he tried his best to get a peek of the man's face from under his mask and hood, but all he could see were two steel grey eyes.

Whoever this man was, they owed their lives to him.

**CLIFFHANGER! YEAAAH! All kidding aside this story is really helping me so I hope it's helping all of you too. This chapter was a LOOONG one and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Please let me know what you thought; Leave a lengthy review (those always help). **

**NEXT CHAPTER: Jon gets acquainted with Dany's sons. Tyrion and Davos have a chat about the future. War preparations are made. Secrets are revealed. Old friends and enemies reunite. Loyalties are questioned and Dead march ever closer.**


	4. None So Fierce

**Wow…Wow, everyone; when I started this little fic I never expected This kind of support and positive feedback. Honestly, I wrote this as a way of helping myself get through the shitstorm that was Season 8, so you can all imagine my surprise at the outstanding support from all of you.**

**Honestly, I hope to bring some closure to not just myself but all of you. Thank you, from the bottom of my…*thinks for a while*…heart, from the bottom of my heart I want to give thanks to all of you that took the time to click and follow along.**

**NOTICE: I had to separate this chapter into two because MY WORD was it getting a bit long, so consider this a little taster because next chapter….I am very proud of it :) **

**We are in this together everyone. ALSO, huge shout out to Kit Harrington and his battle with Stress and alcohol in Rehab. Our thoughts and prayers are with you dude, you can pull through, we all know you can.**

**Winter Comes with Fire and Blood!**

**Chapter 4: None So Fierce**

The howling wind at their backs seemed to die down; the storm now long behind them as they rode their horses through the deep snow. Horse hooves barely registering as the mounts let out hot breaths; clearly ragged from how much their riders had kicked and steered them into full gallop.

Tormund let out a long and relived groan; like a red headed bear. He was glad to be away from those fucking Spiders; Wights he could take, Bears and Giants too; hell give him a Walker…but anything but those fucking spiders.

Edd however had his eyes trained on the hooded man that had come to their rescue; riding slightly apart from the rest of them. The Lord commander of what was left of the Night's Watch couldn't help but notice his hands; black with frostbite yet still able to hold onto the reigns of a horse or the hilt of a sword.

Beric leaned closer to Edd, and in a hushed tone asked "Is he one of yours?"

"He is wearing the Black…he must be" Edd replied.

The man simply kept riding; not even glancing at the men who were talking about him. Edd's eyes then went back to the sword at his hip; he saw the rippled patterns on the blade earlier and he had been around Longclaw enough to recognise Valyrian Steel.

"That sword…its Valyrian steel isn't it?" Edd asked; getting a mere glance from the man,

"You have a good eye" he replied gruffly.

"The Former Lord Commander had a sword of Valyrian Steel…those swords aren't easy to come by" Edd continued.

The man simply kept riding as if he barely even noticed Edd's words; swaying back and forth on the saddle of his horse. From his accent he was definitely a Northerner; with how gruff and over pronounced his words were. The Black hands were certainly worth bringing up; if a person's hands got even half that frostbitten you would lose the hands.

Yet here he was, riding as if it were nothing.

"Not that we don't appreciate the assistance back there; but it would be nice to know the identity of our new brother in arms" Beric asked courteously.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, just tell us who you are you Crow Cunt!" Tormund spat out anxiously. He was understandably perturbed and not a man that enjoyed mysteries.

The man's horse stopped and he slowly reached up to pull down his hood; revealing long raven hair pulled back tight; and when he pulled down his scarf; he revealed a scared face with tired blue eyes, a scared face that Edd recognised.

"First Ranger?" he questioned; mouth agape.

There, sat atop his black horse; dressed in the black of the Night's Watch; was the youngest son of the great Lord Rickard Stark, younger brother of Brandon, Eddard and Lyanna. The First Ranger of the Night's Watch, the Lone Wolf, a true son of the North, the oldest living Stark:

Benjen.

"Lord Commander…certainly made a name for yourself, Edd" he smiled wearily.

"First Ran…Benjen Stark?" Tormund glared at the newly revealed Stark.

Tormund knew of Benjen; he had quite the reputation amongst the free folk, the same as Qhorin Halfhand and Lord Commander Mormont. He had tracked, hunted and killed his people like animals for years, yet here the bastard was as if everything was fine.

Benjen Stark, the Bane of the Free Folk as Mance used to call him.

"We thought you had died North of the Wall" Edd replied.

"I did…for a time" Benjen replied before kicking his horse into a slow trot; everyone else quickly matching his pace.

"But how?" Edd asked.

"It's a long story, one that Is told best over a warm fire and a hot meal…I'll divulge when we arrive at Winterfell" Benjen replied; his voice gruff and tired.

Tormund didn't like the way Stark was talking; acting like all the things he had done in the past were of no concern. Jon was one thing; but Stark was another, he had personally slaughtered hundreds of Free Folk; many of whom were friends of Tormund and Mance. The Red headed Wilding let out an angry huff as he rode up closer to Benjen.

"Do you know who I am?" Tormind asked behind gritted teeth; hand hovering over his cleaver.

"You are Tormund Giantsbane" Benjen replied without a moment's hesitation.

"So, you know me, Good. Now give me one good reason I shouldn't rip your fucking spine out" Tormund growled as he rode his horse closer to Benjen.

"I'll point you to 500,000" Benjen pointed his finger at the storm that waited behind them.

All eyes widened and Tormund felt his heart stop, 500,000? That's how many marched in the army of the dead; they were prepared for 100,000; maybe even 200,000 but 5? Tormund had never even heard of an army of that size.

And judging by the expressions on Beric and Edd's faces; neither had they.

"Now, we could sit here and argue about the past; about how many of your Wildling friends I've killed and I could counter with all the Northern villages your people raided and reeved and raped at, or we could continue on our way to Winterfell to warn them of what's coming" Benjen replied sternly to Tormund; eyes fixed on the Wildling.

Tormund had to admit; the stories didn't do Benjen justice, it took courage to stare an enemy in the eyes and tell him what was what. Only one other man from south of the wall had ever done that, and he was a man that Tormund would die for if he asked him.

"You sound just like your Nephew" Tormund chuckled.

"To Winterfell then" Beric lead.

* * *

The cold of Winterfell was an odd thing; if men south of the neck ever felt a cold like this, they would simply stay in bed with their wives all day whilst their young sons did all the work. Yet here in the North; the cold drove men to work as hard as they could, cutting down trees, sharpening pikes and sharpening weapons.

The men of the North were hardy fellows; as the old saying goes 'hard places, breed hard men' and the men of the North were certainly that. The Men of Essos seemed to have that in common with them; it was odd seeing Unsullied cut down trees besides Northmen and assist them in whatever tasks they had set out for themselves.

Only a few days had passed since the arrival of the Targaryen army; and already it seemed as if the Northerners were slowly starting to warm up to the Unsullied. The army of eunuchs were doing everything their queen willed of them, their actions methodical and filled with purpose as they worked as a single unit.

Tyrion Lannister, not one for such heavy lifting work couldn't help but smile as he noticed a mixed group of Hardy Northmen and silent Unsullied hauling supplies. When one old Northman, about the age of 60 by the looks of him, stumbled and fell; an Unsullied quickly helped him up and earned a courteous nod and a pat on the back before assisting the old man.

"Cheers lad, mind helping an old man?" the Northerner asked between tired wheezes.

"This one, helps" the Unsullied replied with a quick nod, his common tongue probably not a good as his Valyrian.

"What's your name lad?" the old Northerner asked with a smile when the Unsullied bent down and picked up the crate he had dropped.

"White Ant" he replied; the old Northerner only nodded with a confused expression before wrapping an arm around the younger Unsullied's shoulder and walking with him.

A small exchange like that gave Tyrion a bit of hope that Queen Daenerys would make friends quickly here in the North. In Hindsight, the men and women of the North were very much like the people of Essos. They both came from inhospitable areas; were seen as savages by the upper classes that abused and used them.

In those ways they seemed to share much; really how different was scorching heat that could kill in hours when compared to chilling snow storms that could kill in minutes? How different was a Dothraki Horselord to a Free Folk of the far North? How different were they really?

After spending time with both the Lords of the Westerlands, the people of King's Landing, the men of the North and the armies of Queen Daenerys, it was scary how alike the last two were. It seemed like fate that their respective leaders fall in love now that he thought about it.

Though those thoughts were quickly silenced by the arrival of a man that had made quite a name for himself up north; despite being a Southerner that served a Southern king until recently. Ser Davos Seaworth, Onion Knight and former hand of King Jon of the North.

"So how is the North treating you, Lord Hand?" Davos asked with his hands, or rather hand and a half, clasped behind his back.

"Honestly I can see why Mormont and Snow brood and glower all the fucking time" Tyrion smiled in response; Davos chuckled as they began to stroll together through Winterfell.

"I find Brooding and glowering to be natural parts of Northern life; even if you aren't from here…stay long enough and you'll find yourself staring at the horizon with a stern look on your face" Davos chuckled.

"I will admit that the North is much different than the last time I came here. A different life; so much strife hadn't happened yet and I was considerably handsomer than I am now" Tyrion referred to his facial scar.

"Oh, I wouldn't know my Lord, scars can be quite fetching" Davos replied.

"Unfortunately, no matter how fetching my scars are…Lannisters aren't looked upon favourably here" Tyrion replied, ever since stepping off of the carriage he had been given dirty looks by every Northerner he had seen.

"I wouldn't fret about that Lord Hand; just look over there" Davos gestured over to a bunch of Northmen going about their business; building Dragonglass fortifications, their armour was different enough as were the sigils that adorned their armour.

The Direwolf of House Stark, The crossed chains of House Umber and The White Sun of House Karstark.

"Starks, Karstarks, Umbers working together. Quite funny how it takes the end of the world to bring houses together" Tyrion remarked.

"It's not been long since the Umbers and Karstarks were standing against House Stark. But now look at them; working together, Jon Snow brought them together and brought peace between their houses when everyone else thought it impossible" Davos continued.

"And Queen Daenerys is grateful for Lord Snow's efforts" Tyrion replied.

"The two of them are great leaders. He managed to convince Wildlings and Northerners that hated each other to stand together. And she from what I hear, convinced both the Dothraki and Ironborn; who were famed plunderers, reavers and rapers…to leave their traditions aside to fight for her new world" Davos replied as they continued to walk.

"Why do I suspect you are coming to a proposition?" Tyrion asked.

"Because a Proposal is what I am proposing" Davos turned to Tyrion with a smirk.

"Ah…the dreaded question of Matrimony" Tyrion smirked back.

"Jon and Daenerys are both strong leaders; their people love them, but their people are still divided; it will take a long time for the Northerners to accept her as their Queen. After their experiences with Southern rulers it will be hard for her to earn their trust and loyalty" Davos explained.

"A marriage between the two would be a step in the right direction to remedying that" Tyrion nodded.

"There are only positives if they chose to marry. For one the North would has one of their sons sat besides a Queen in the south, it would ease a lot of the tension the Northerners feel for her, and if we survive the Long Night…wouldn't it be a good thought that the Seven Kingdoms for once in their shit existence were ruled by a Just woman…and an Honourable man?" Davos asked as they came into the Blacksmithing areas.

"I will admit…they do make a Handsome couple. And you must admit; it wouldn't take much convincing on their part" Tyrion chuckled to himself.

"They aren't known for being subtle" Davos chuckled back; remembering all the times on the boat he would see Jon try and fail to leave the Queen's chambers as quietly as he could.

It was cute at times, beautiful at others; it certainly gave Davos hope that two good people in love could bring true change to the Kingdoms if given the chance. Jon was a noble and honourable man, but he had a nasty habit of being naïve or too passive when it came to certain issues. Daenerys was kind and just, but she had an impulse problem and a habit of being ruthless to her enemies.

They were both good people at their cores; but they had flaws like anyone else.

What gave Davos hope was that together they balanced each other. She filled him with a fire that even Dragons could not match, while he tempered her and brought ice to her fiery impulses. Together they made a great match, individually they would be great rulers but as a pair; as a King and Queen they may change the realms for the better.

It was an encouraging thought.

"I suppose if Varys were here, he would give us some witty quip about how love is meaningless or about how they are fools to have feelings for each other" Tyrion smirked to himself.

"Then I suppose its good that he is back in Dragonstone, being useful" Davos replied.

"We have to believe in them Davos; if we don't…then we wouldn't be doing our jobs" Tyrion continued.

"Aye, belief is important for rulers like them; but we have to give them space to make their own decisions. They need our counsel when it is needed; but they aren't puppets to be controlled" Davos replied with a curt look.

"Why do I feel like that was aimed at me?" Tyrion replied.

"Not just you; Varys as well. You are so used to advising rulers with foul intentions and insanity riddling their minds that you aren't advising her the way you should. Advisors should give counsel, not brow beat their kings and queens into submission and then be surprised when they show displeasure with how your advice did them wrong" Davos continued as they went about their way across the battlements.

"Why are you telling me this?" Tyrion asked.

"Because it occurred to me that our Queen is amongst a very hostile environment; I've seen what places like this can do to good rulers with good intentions. Its hard to understand how Kings and Queens think and how they make decisions; believe me I've trouble understanding Jon most days, but every time I question him, he proves me wrong for doing so. Daenerys is the same…she needs loyal advisors that can support her when things seem dire; but we also need to know when to take a step back and let them do what they need to" Davos replied.

Tyrion understood the vitality of the wisdom that came with age; Davos had led a long life and had seen much. He served under Stannis Baratheon; a man who seemed very much like a mixture of Jon and Dany. The Baratheon king was ruthless when he needed to be, like Daenerys, and he was man of honour and principle much like Jon.

Tyrion could see how Davos saw both Jon and Daenerys as reminders of his former king. Deep down Tyrion wished he had once served a king worthy of his counsel before serving Daenerys, so he would have been better prepared for the challenges of advising a good leader.

Joffrey was not a good leader; seven hells he wasn't a leader at all, just a cruel tyrant that enjoyed watching other people suffer. Stannis for all his flaws was at the very least a leader; so, Davos understood that Rulers didn't appreciate being talked down to like children that didn't know better.

"I know…ever since coming back home most of my decisions have led to disaster. I'm not a military man Davos; I've no clues on how to conquer Westeros, all I know from my time as Hand to Joffrey was how to keep a city from ripping itself apart" Tyrion replied.

"Well Jon is very adept at warfare…as are many of the Lords here in Winterfell; as are many of the Lords on their way from the Westerlands from what I've heard. It seems all we have to do is guide them towards the right ruler" Davos smirked.

"That's true. Cersei herself won't be coming North; I know that much. So, while the Lords of the Westerlands and the North are in the presence of Jon and Daenerys…perhaps it be best if their allegiances…shifted perhaps?" Tyrion smiled.

"I like the way you think Lord Hand" Davos smiled back.

* * *

The skies above Dragonstone used to be clearer than they were now; not an inch of blue sky could be seen as Winter began to take a slow effect upon the southern most kingdoms. Dragonstone's beaches would always be breezy; the colder weather certainly wouldn't be helping with that.

A single rowboat pulled up onto the beaches; inside the rowboat were 6 men, all armed and wearing heavy cloaks.

Waiting on the beaches was a small contingent of Unsullied; out of the thousands that went North only 100 stayed behind to keep the Island of Dragonstone secure. Standing there amongst them was the Spider himself, Lord Varys, Queen Daenerys' Master of Whispers.

The boat came to a halt and the largest of the men leapt over the side; heavy leather boots squashing the damp sand beneath. Reaching up and taking off his hood; and rubbing the damp sea spray from his moustache was the Strongboar himself, Lyle Crakehall.

He wasn't adorned in his plate armour and family sigil like usual, instead he wore some simple brown combat leathers; lightweight and easy to move in, also made him stand out less.

Lyle had been sent to Dragonstone by his father to speak with Lord Varys. Lyle was an honoured Knight and a tried and tested battle commander. He had a sharp mind when it came to tactics and he was very valued in the Westerlands. With Ser Jamie gone, Lyle was the closest thing to a favoured son the Westerlands had. He was strong, honourable, honed like a sharp blade and even though many saw him as a dumb brute he was noble and fierce as Westerland men came.

He was the true embodiment of his House's words 'None so Fierce' standing taller than everyone else present with a face full of battle scars and a mane of black hair. At his side were a Longsword and a mace; he had come prepared.

"Welcome to Dragonstone, Lord Crakehall" Varys bowed courteously.

"Lord Varys…thank you for having me" Lyle replied looking back and forth between all the Unsullied present.

"I trust my message found you and your father well?" Varys smiled.

"My father, and most of the Lords of the Westerlands" Lyle replied.

"A great risk, but as I have always said, great risks lead to great rewards" Varys smiled back.

Lyle could only narrow his eyes suspiciously as his eyes went from one Unsullied troop to the next. He had heard stories of the Spider; that he was one of the sharpest, most intelligent men in the realm. The only men that even came close to his intellect were Lord Baelish, Lord Tyrion and the great Lord Tywin. Now, while the last two were Lords of the Westerlands and could somewhat be trusted, Baelish and Varys were liars, manipulators; they never did something without ulterior motives.

Sending that message was a great risk; true. Not just to Varys, but to all the Lords of the Westerlands. Just one traitor in their midst was all it would take for the message to get back to Cersei, then again only Lyle, Leo Lefford and Roland Crakehall had read the scroll itself.

The details were fuzzy at best and the descent amongst the Lords of the Westerlands was growing thicker by the day. Cersei had done nothing to earn their fealty, all she did was sit on the Throne her late husband had won and lost by dying to a boar. She has tried uniting them by stoking their love of their country by warning of foreign invaders; all the while planning to make alliances with Ironborn reavers and Essosi Mercenaries that fought for gold, not loyalty.

This was the reason his father had sent him to Dragonstone. He was the youngest commander of the Westerlands besides Ser Jamie; he was their future.

"You aren't going to ask for my weapons?" Lyle asked after a long silence.

"Oh, I find such requests to be unbelievably drool. I'm nothing more than a humble Eunuch in service to the Queen; while you Ser Crakehall are an honoured Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, and last I checked a real Knight such as yourself wouldn't sully his blade with the blood of a man who can't defend himself" Varys replied quickly with a smile.

Varys knew that the title of Knight meant nothing in the grand scheme of things; but he knew how men like Lyle thought. Lyle was one of the men raised on tales of Ser Duncan the tall and Daemon the Dragonknight, raised to believe in honour and duty and loyalty. He was a man that would rather fall in battle against thousands rather than dishonour himself with the blood of one who couldn't fight back. It was a comforting thought; not having to worry for your life in the presence of a trained killer.

Ser Lyle was very much like the Northerners, his sense of loyalty and duty giving him a substantial handicap in the game of thrones. There were many knights of the Kingdom that Varys knew would not hold the ideals of Loyalty, Duty and Honour in such high regard. Ser Meryn Trant, Ser Gregor Clegane, Ser Illyn Payne, pretty much all the Knights of Cersei Lannister's Queensguard, all nothing more than cold blooded killers in pretty armour.

Ser Lyle was a member of a dying breed. A Breed that could help the Seven Kingdoms back to greatness, under the right ruler of course.

Lyle confirmed Varys' thoughts when he cracked a smile and gave a deep belly laugh, the other Crakehall men leaving the boat to join their Lord.

"You are as quick as they said Lord Varys…please, lead the way" Lyle smiled.

Fairly soon, Lyle found himself standing in the room of the Painted table; the room from where Aegon the Conqueror planned his conquest of the seven kingdoms. Fitting that his last surviving descendant had used this place to stage her retaking of the same kingdoms.

"Your message had my father reeling for days, Lord Varys" Lyle said as he ran his hands over the section of the table that depicted King's Landing.

"I'm glad I can still have that effect upon men in power my Lord" Varys sat nearby; his arms still within the long sleeves of his robe.

"You understand that message may put the lives of my father, Lord Lefford and all of the Lords of the Westerlands in peril? Correct?" Lyle asked with his hands resting on the painted table.

"Your father, Lord Lefford and the other Lords of the Westerlands were already in peril my Lord. You had spoken out against Queen Cersei in the middle of a full Throne room. My little birds were watching that transpire and you can bet that Cersei's little birds were keeping a close eye on your conversation in the meeting room" Varys responded quickly and elegantly as he usually did.

The colour drained from Lyle's face, he had left both his father and Lord Lefford back in King's Landing; right in the middle of the snake pit. The Armies of the Westerlands still remained in the Westerlands and nothing stood between Lyle's father Roland and Leo Lefford.

House Lefford and House Crakehall were the next biggest powers in the Westerlands after House Lannister. Now with Tywin gone, Tyrion in the North and Jamie heading there, House Lannister was a bitter shell of its former self.

Lyle now remembered the words he had read on the scroll given to his father and Lord Lefford, all of its simplicity now made sense.

'_Lord Roland of House Crakehall, Lord Leo of House Lefford, Lords of the Westerlands. I bring to you this message in hopes it finds you well; and to offer an alternative to the bitter, cruel rule you find yourselves in. _

_There was once a time you knelt to Dragons, when the Lions in the west kept the peace amongst their lands, when the Wolves in the North, The Stags in the East, and the Snakes in the South knelt to their power and sovereignty. Now a threat in the Far North, a threat known to you by Ser Jamie Lannister, son of your Lord Tywin, is going unchallenged by your so called 'Queen'. _

_Blind incompetence should not be rewarded with Loyalty, neither should a reckless endangerment of life. The lives of your families, your people, the people of Westeros itself are in great jeopardy. Perhaps it is time a Dragon rules again?_

_If my offer interests you, send the Strongboar to the shores of Dragonstone to speak terms. No harm shall come to your favoured son, his words will be protected under the banner of truce Queen Cersei chose to ignore by refusing to send your armies North._

_Lord Varys, Master of Whispers to Queen Daenerys of House Targaryen, first of her name, Protector of the realm' _

"Why didn't you send for all three of us? And the other Lords? You only sent for me in that scroll, WHY!?" Lyle questioned, slamming his hand against the table.

Lyle was visibly shaken, he was not a Politician; he was a warrior, a Knight plain and simple. He did not believe in the Game of Thrones and had no use for the backstabbing tactics that came with it. So, hearing news such as this, that his father and the other Lords may have been in danger shocked him to his core worse than any arrow or Crossbow bolt ever could.

"You are the future of your House, Ser Lyle. Your father knew this; and Lord Lefford has a daughter in Golden Tooth that would take his place if he died. Your father was not an expert in the Game, but he knew that when he spoke out against the Queen that his life would be forfeit. You did not speak out against Cersei; she would see you as a valuable asset even with the death of your father" Varys explained before standing up and approaching the Strongboar.

Varys was right, after the war of five kings, the siege of Riverun and the skirmishes against the Dragon Queen's Dothraki, only Lyle survived as the heir to Crakehall. His oldest brother Tybolt had died in the war to a stray Crossbow bolt to the neck; while his younger brother Merlon had his head struck from his shoulders by a Dothraki Bloodrider that Lyle dispatched in Vengeance. His Uncle Burton was killed by the Lightning Lord, Beric Dondarrion and the Brotherhood without banners.

Lyle was the last living son of House Crakehall, his father was old and weary; tired of fighting. It made sense why Roland would want him elsewhere and not in the snake pit of King's Landing.

"You speak as if my father and Lord Lefford are already dead" Lyle spoke, his eyes fixed on King's Landing. His thoughts riddled with the sight of that grinning blonde bitch that called herself a Queen, that shrivelled little letch that wore her hand, the Abomination posing as a Knight and that Sea Rat scum that thought himself a King.

"My little birds chirp freely and often. There are already plans concerning your father and the other Lords of the Westerlands still in the capitol. You, Lord Lefford's daughter, the other children of the great houses of the Westerlands are to be kept alive…all the more pliable for Cersei to do as she wishes" Varys explained further with a soft tone before handing a scroll to Lyle.

The Strongboar looked at the scroll and recognised the seal upon it. A boar sigil; the sigil of his house. Quickly, Lyle took the scroll from Varys and began reading; Varys may have been a good spymaster and a talented liar.

But the scroll was in his father's hand; and his father's words, not to easily replicated. Lyle's eyes widened as he read the message; with every sentence his breathing became more ragged and his heart clenched.

'_My Son; I write this in hopes it reaches you in Dragonstone at the morning of your arrival. The walls of King's Landing have ears; many of whom loyal to the madwoman sitting on the chair of Aegon. When I spoke out against her I signed my own death warrant; I know my time in this world is coming to an end. But this need not be the end of our house or our people. _

_I do not know the Dragon Queen or her Wolf Lord in the North, but I know Ser Jamie; despite his reputation as a Kingslayer he has always done what was best for the realm. He is a man of honour and if he deems Daenerys worth trusting then so should we. _

_There are many things I never told you, my son. You were never my eldest, never the brightest of our house, but I always loved you. When I lost your mother, your uncle and both your brothers I neglected to tell you that…I neglected to give you the love a father should give their son at every turn. But with every battle you won, every achievement you made, the prouder you made me._

_I've have already heard rumours of what the Queen has planned for me and the other old Lords. I do not look forward to the gruesome fate she has planned for us; but I will not cower, nor will I flee. I am a proud Boar of the west, not a squealing pig. Do not attempt to rescue me, my fate will serve as a testament to the truth of what out Kingdom has become._

_I demand nothing of you my son; you are the leader of our people now, and I trust you to make the right decision. I meet my death with my head held high; knowing that you will make me proud._

_Roland Crakehall, Lord of Crakehall. None as Fierce.'_

As Lyle read the last words he would hear from his father, a single solitary tear rolled down his cheek and onto the painted table below. Varys could see the emotions swelling within the young Knight as he read, it brought Varys no joy seeing a Son realize the fate of his father; but it was necessary.

Lyle's fist clenched so hard it threatened to draw blood. After all the blood the people of the Westerlands had spilt for Cersei; after all the centuries of loyalty and sacrifice, this was how his family was to be rewarded? His father's words echoed within his head; the men of the Westerlands would never follow Cersei after a betrayal such as this.

"She…is not my Queen" Lyle growled.

"My deepest condolences, My Lord" Varys bowed his head.

"Lord Varys, do you have a Rookery?" Lyle asked, standing up straight and regaining his composure.

"I would be a poor master of whispers without a Rookery" Varys replied with a knowing smirk.

"Transcribe my father's message and send it to every Lord in Westeros. Send it to the Westerlands, to the Riverlands, the Stormlands, everywhere with eyes and ears to receive it" Lyle handed the scroll back to Varys and went to leave the room.

"My Lord, what will you do?" Varys asked with the scroll still in his hands.

"My men are 3000 strong, I will do what I see is right…I will march them North" Lyle said with a strong voice worthy of his nickname. The Strongboar turned and left the Painted room; purpose in his step and confidence in his resolve.

Varys stood there, with the message still in his fingers. With a genuine smile he began to walk to his chambers where he could properly transcribe and send off the last words of Roland Crakehall. He did so enjoy the game at times; especially when he knew he was on the right side.

* * *

The light penetrated the cells like an explosion of dragonfire; eyes went narrow as sunlight threatened to blind the two men chained up in their cells.

Roland Crakehall and Leo Lefford sat there in their cells; chained and manacled. Their once opulent and lordly robes now soiled in mud and dirt. The two older men had been waiting for this for days; as four men in Lannister armour marched to their cells, followed by a single Queensgaurd and the hand of the Queen, Qyburn.

"My Lords…it is time" Qyburn smiled.

Leo and Roland both gave each other a solem look of understanding. They had spent the last few days wallowing in filth; but they had also spent those days speaking of the good times. Speaking of the children they left to carry on in their stead, how they met their wives, the great laughs they had with their friends and bannermen.

But now, it was time for them to meet their fates.

Within minutes both Roland and Leo found themselves in the city square. Citizens gathered in their thousands; their clothes ragged and moth eaten; stained with mud and dirt much like the Lords. Two entire lines of Lannister men and Gold cloaks stood between the crowd and the executioner's block.

Standing there was their harbinger of death, Ser Ilyn Payne, wearing a black hood and holding a claymore sized great sword in his hands. Standing at the top of the steps was Cersei; wearing that same satisfied grin that pissed Roland off so much. Next to her was the monster that had once been Gregor Clegane.

Roland didn't know which one would do the deed, all he knew was that both men were mere lap dogs to the 'Queen'.

Euron Greyjoy and Harry Strickland were also present; Euron with a look on his face like a child ready to be entertained. Strickland looking professional as he could be, with hands behind his back and posture up straight.

Roland saw that the block was already stained with fresh blood; theirs would be the final executions of the day. Whatever poor sods had been killed before them, be they Lords that stood up to Cersei, Knights that didn't follow orders or citizens that had displeased her in some way, Roland didn't know but he felt pity for them.

"Bring the traitor Leo Lefford forward!" Qyburn announced.

The Lannister men shoved Leo into place behind the block, his hands and feet bound by chains. The rattling of steel setting a fitting mood for the travesty this was.

"You stand accused of Treason against Cersei of the house Lannister, First of her name, Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the realm. What have you to say in your defence?" he announced loudly.

Leo looked out at the crowd, seeing the defeated and deflated faces of all those present. This was not justice; this was a parade of Cersei's strength and power. Public executions were commonplace in this society, but usually they would attract a crowd eager to see justice done.

This was not one of those occasions.

"All my life I did what was best for my people. I followed Lord Tywin because it was best for my people, I followed Ser Jaime because it was best for my people…but you…" Leo turned and looked Cersei dead in the eye.

"…You are no Queen of mine" he spat before voluntarily kneeling down and placing his neck on the block.

Cersei's smug grin turned to a scowl as she turned to Ser Ilyne who was already in the midst of raising his great sword before Cersei spoke.

"I Cersei of the House Lannister, first of my name, rightful Queen of the Andals, Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm, sentence you to die! Ser Ilyne, this traitorous scum does not deserve a quick death…Cut off his hands and feet!" Cersei spat with wild eyes.

Roars of protest erupted from the crowd as men and women began crying out in terror. Ser Ilyn nodded to the Lannister men who pulled up Leo and placed his still shackled hands on the block in place of his head. Leo looked on in terror as Ilyn raised the sword and brought it down upon his hands.

With a flash of steel and a gush of red, Leo's hand fell to the floor; leaving two heavily bleeding stumps in their place.

"AAAAAAGH!" Leo screamed at the top of his lungs as crimson red blood gushed out from his handless arms. The Lannister men were horrified by this as they took a few steps back; seeing Leo cry out in utter agony as he lost both his hands.

"NOW HIS FEET!" Cersei ordered the Lannister men who seemed shell shocked by the sight of one of their lords crying at the loss of his hands.

Two Soldiers of the golden company stood in, shoving the Lannister men aside and grabbing a hold of Lefford's feet. Taking off his boots and leg shackles, they placed each foot on the block and waited for Ilyn to swing again.

Another two separate swings and Leo was left handless and footless. Roland could only look on in horror as his friend for so many years was brutally mutilated in front of his eyes. People in the crowds were shrieking and screaming in horror as the execution transformed into a mutilation.

"NO! It's not enough! Ser Ilyn! Cut away piece after piece from this wretched traitor! I don't want his family to recognise his corpse when I send it to them! Gouge out his eyes! Cut out his tongue, leave him a mangled corpse that even the worms won't want to feast on!" Cersei snarled like a beast; her queenly composure replaced by a raving madwoman.

Ser Ilyn drew his torture tools and went to work on Lord Lefford.

Euron saw the way the crowds were reacting; utter fear. Fear was something he enjoyed very much, and to his own knowledge he felt his pants tighten at the sight of people screaming in dread and horror.

"YOU HEARTLESS CUNT!" Roland roared, the Lannister men restraining him as he lunged at the Queen. Cersei glared at Roland as the words left his mouth; her mouth twitched as she looked to Gregor and grinned.

"Ser Gregor…rend him" she ordered.

The Mountain marched down the steps towards Roland; neither hands going to the great sword sheathed on his back. The armoured hands of the massive knights flexing and knuckles popping as he approached.

Roland had seen what the Mountain had done to Oberyn Martell with those hands. What was coming was not going to be a painless death, he knew this the moment the Lannister men cornered him in his chambers. But Roland Crakehall would not shudder, he would not flinch of run like a coward. He was a Boar, A Crakehall, a descendant of the First Men, a proud warrior. He would meet death head on, with his composure as a lord intact.

The Mountain's hands grabbed Roland by the arms and picked him up a foot off of the ground. The shackles rattled as they did; and Gregor began to pull. Roland felt the joints in his arms pop and ligaments begin to tear.

Muscle and skin began to give way as Roland's arms were popped clean from their sockets. The bones of his arms began to break under the iron-tight grip of the Monster formerly known as Gregor Clegane. With his last few breaths, Roland let out a long and mighty cry of his House words.

"NONE…SO…FIERCE!" he roared before his cried were drowned out by the sound of tearing flesh and the splatter of blood.

Roland's arms were torn from his body; blood and loose flesh splashed onto the floor below him. Staining the floor redder than it had ever been, down in the streets people were vomiting and crying tears of utter fear that they were being ruled by such a monster.

Roland dropped to his knees; his consciousness fading with unbelievable pain and blood loss.

But when Gregor Clegane reached for his head, his eyes began to close; his vision became blurry. And Roland Crakehall's last vision was not the sight of the Mountain reaching forward to crack his skull like an egg.

It was of his long-departed wife; reaching for him with her soft hands, a soft smile adorning her face and her long raven locks blowing in the wind. She had been waiting for him for so long, and now he had returned to her.

Roland Crakehall did not live long enough to feel his head split apart by the hands of Gregor Clegane.

Cersei Lannister, standing there with a crazed smile on her face, did not understand the gravity of her actions. With the brutal murder of Leo Lefford and Roland Crakehall; she did not realize that she had thrown away the loyalty of the houses of the Westerlands.

She had descended down the dark path that many rulers often did.

She was well, and truly lost.

* * *

**THOSE WERE PROBABLY THE DARKEST DEATH SCENES IVE EVER WRITTEN, AND I WRITE AVP FICS FFS.**

**Benjen Stark alive…technically…and well…technically. Tyrion and Davos Talk of Marriage between our King and Queen, Cersei sinks deeper into madness with the deaths of two great lords. And it seems like the Strongboar his westerland forces are on the warpath. **

**Next chapter will have the promised Dragon ride and A LOT MORE JON AND DANY! I hope it will be worth the wait everybody. **

**Like always leave me your support and tell me what you thought. As always, we are in this together, LONG LIVE THE KING AND QUEEN!**


	5. Let Go

**I KNOW RIGHT!? I NEVER UPLOAD THIS FAST, HOLY SMOKES! Then again Necessity is the mother of invention, and I've never needed to write a story more than this one, not just for me but for all of you hanging in there.**

**As promised DRAGON RIDE THIS CHAPTER WOO WOOO! Trains on the rails babeh! Unfortunately the Heritage reveal will be next chapter, I had so much fun writing the Dragon ride that I MAAAAAY have gone a bit overboard…or not, I'm pretty proud of it all things considered. **

**Heritage reveal comes next chapter, and Fair warning ahead of time, Jon's true name is going to be Jaehaerys in this version…because, let's be honest, naming him Aegon when Rhaegar already had a son named Aegon was just dumb. **

**God I've been looking forward to writing this bit.**

**Chapter 5: Let Go**

"You must admit My Lady; she does exude a certain air of decency about her" Lord Royce said as he sat beside Sansa.

The Lord of the Vale and the Lady of Winterfell sat in what was the war room; they had finished laying out a few more battle plans and sent off Wolkan with more ravens. Right now, Sansa needed to vent some opinions that she very well couldn't talk about with Jon. Royce was an honourable man and probably the most loyal to her out of everyone in Winterfell; if she misspoke, she knew Royce wouldn't tell.

One of the best things about Vale Knights; honourable to a fault.

"Airs of Decency can be easily faked my lord. I don't know if I can trust her yet, slowly she is making strides but…I just don't know" Sansa replied; tapping her finger nervously on the table they sat at.

"I knew the Mad King my Lady, I knew Queen Rhealla and Prince Rhaegar as well. She is more like her mother and brother in looks alone" Royce replied.

"What were they like? Father never told us about them" Sansa asked; folding her hands.

"Queen Rhealla was a gentle soul…kind and nurturing. Prince Rhaegar was the model of a Knight in many ways; he was skilled, honourable, dam good on a horse with a lance might I add" Royce smirked at the memories of that last bit.

"I keep hearing these stories…that Rhaegar was a good man, an honourable warrior that cared for people…yet he kidnapped and raped my aunt Lyanna" Sansa replied.

"War can lead men to do terrible things my lady, and the Targaryens have always ridden the thin line between madness and greatness" Royce nodded.

"I just want to be sure which side Daenerys' coin has landed" Sansa replied.

The doors to the war room opened with a loud creak and in stepped the very topic of conversation herself. Wearing a grey dress with silver and fur lining was the Dragon Queen herself, Daenerys Targaryen.

"Lady Sansa, may I ask if we speak alone?" Daenerys asked with a regal tone.

"Of course, your Grace" Sansa nodded to Lord Royce who bowed in respect to Sansa.

Lord Royce took a short bow to Daenerys and greeted "Your grace" before quickly leaving the room. He wasn't a Targaryen loyalist but he knew to show decency and good manners whenever possible, chivalrous types always did.

"I never got to thank you for your hospitality. Jon said Northern hospitality was like North itself; prickly, cold and unpleasant at first…but once you find your feet it can feel more like home than anywhere else" Daenerys smiled as she approached Sansa.

"I will admit; after spending much time in the South that Jon is right. King's Landing is warmer, cosier and much more glamorous, but it never felt like home" Sansa replied; realizing the truth behind that statement.

"I don't think I've ever felt at home anywhere. Being on the run from assassins since you could walk will tend to have that effect" Dany replied taking a seat; Sansa sitting immediately after her.

A few seconds of silence felt like years as the question hung in the air; neither powerful woman wanting to be the first to address it. The question both uncomfortable and dangerous in both their eyes; like reaching into a basket laden with venomous Vipers. Touch it or handle it in the wrong way and it could spell disaster. But Dany had to be the one to lead; she was a Queen after all.

"I've been noticing a tension in the air recently; whenever the two of us are in the same room" Daenerys said; addressing the Elephant in the room.

"Yes; I've noticed that too" Sansa nodded with a sigh before Dany sat down; Sansa felt some of the tension relax.

"When Jon spoke of you; he told me you were smart, kind, decent and a staunch protector of your house" Dany said; leaning her arm against the table beside her.

"…I will admit, before I met you, I expected a little lady same as the ones you hear in the stories. Polite, courteous and down on her manners. But when I saw you, I only saw one thing…" Dany began; Sansa both dreading what the next words were going to be.

"I saw the eyes of a woman who had been through hell. A woman who used to have some shred of innocence and naivete about her; until the world tore it all asunder and left someone hardened by the truth" Dany replied; Sansa's eyes widening slightly as she did.

"We are very much alike Sansa. I've been abused and used my entire life as you have, I've been subjected to torture and defilement as you have. I understand how cruel the world can be to women in our positions" Dany continued; clasping her hands in front of her.

"Sad things to have in common" Sansa replied; trying to lighten the mood at least a little bit.

"We have other things in common. We both know what it means to lead people who aren't inclined to accept a woman's rule. And we've both done a dam good job of it from what I can tell" Dany smiled.

Sansa allowed a ghost of a smirk to adorn her face for a mere second before regaining her composure.

"And yet I can't help but feel we are at odds with one another, why is that?" Dany gave a saddened look.

The look they exchanged didn't need any words to accompany it; they both knew what the reason was. The reason was the one thing that connected them and yet set them apart; the one person in both their lives that had left quite a large impact.

"Your Brother" Dany sighed.

"He loves you; you know that?" Sansa asks rhetorically.

"That bothers you?" Dany replies as civilly as she can. It takes every bit of restraint she can muster to not roar it out in dragonfire. Her and Jon's love was not as one sided as Sansa made it sound; the mere inclination that it was could have sent Dany into a rage.

But this was her beloved's sister, she had to give her a chance.

"Men do stupid things for women; they are easily manipulated" Sansa replied. Dany had to admit there was truth to her words; Daario only fought for her because of the beauty and power he found attractive.

"All my life I've known one goal…the Iron Throne. Taking it back from the people who destroyed my family and almost destroyed yours, my war was with them…until I met Jon. Now I'm here, half the world away; fighting the only war that matters alongside him. Tell me who manipulated whom?" Dany asked with the kindest look she could muster.

Manipulated wasn't the best word Dany could have chosen; but she thought it best to throw some of Sansa's inflammatory words back at her.

Sansa couldn't help but let out a short laugh and let a smile adorn her face; she had to admit that Daenerys had a way with words, and she could clearly understand where she was coming from. If all Dany cared about was the Throne; then why would she be here instead?

"I should have thanked you…the moment you arrived. That was a mistake" Sansa admitted; feeling a little more humbled at the moment.

Daenerys reached forward and took one of Sansa's hands in her own "I'm here because I love your brother, and I trust him. And I know he is true to his word; he is only the second man in my life I can say that about"

"Who was the first?" Sansa asked.

"Someone taller" Dany replied with a straight face.

The two both lost their composure for a quick laugh; yes, it was a little hypocritical for Dany to make fun of Jon's height, but then again, she sensed he got teased by Sansa and his other siblings for it for a long time. It was all in good jest and the tension in the room seemed to melt away.

"What happens afterwards?" Sansa asked.

"We defeat the dead; destroy Cersei, what happens then?" Sansa continued as Dany took her words in.

"I take the Iron Throne" Dany stated as a matter of fact.

"What about the North? It was taken from us, and we took it back and we said we would never bow to anyone else again. What about the North?" Sansa asked; her love for her homeland shining through.

Dany let out a sigh before leaning back on the chair; her hand not leaving Sansa's as her eyes wandered.

"I don't know. I have a long list of wrongs that have to be righted in this country. For hundreds of years the rule of Westeros has been a wheel. Targaryens, Baratheons, Lannisters, Starks, Tyrells, each one of them has been a spoke on the wheel. First this one is on top then this one and on and on it goes, crushing all beneath it" Dany relayed the words she said to Tyrion back in Meereen.

Sansa didn't expect an answer like this; intrigued she kept her attention on Dany's words.

"I came here with the intent of breaking that wheel. I understand that you want the North to have its independence, and while I understand that it is under the best of intentions, I cannot keep the peace if every other kingdom wishes its independence. If I refuse then it is war, if every nation gains its independence then how long before the Reach realize that they want control of the Riverlands?" Dany explained.

It was a difficult situation they found themselves in, Sansa understood that with every word Dany spoke. She wasn't some mad tyrant that wanted complete domination over Westeros; this was a woman that wanted change for the benefit of those who had been oppressed at every turn.

"How long before some warlord in the Stormlands realizes he wants to take a piece of the Westerlands? Then it is chaos, war, suffering for all those who weren't fortunate enough to be born in a Noble family. Women and children whose husbands and fathers die in war starve on street corners, Orphans litter the streets of every capital, many won't survive the winter. The Seven Kingdoms would be worse than it had been before my ancestor had arrived" Dany explained.

The question was a perplexing one; Sansa didn't want her people to be borderline enslaved to a tyrant, but she could see now that Dany was not that Tyrant. The Northern Lords wouldn't like bending the knee to a foreign ruler, a Targaryen Queen at that.

"I can see its quite a conundrum" Sansa replied with a nod.

"Just a bit. And that is hoping that we survive what is coming" Dany nodded.

"So…can we inhabit the same space from now on without tearing each other's throats out?" Dany asked.

Sansa let out an amused chuckle of sorts. All of her worries hadn't faded completely, she still didn't trust Daenerys 100% but at least now she knew what kind of Woman she was dealing with. This wasn't an insane tyrant that wanted everyone to submit or die. This was someone that could be reasoned with, could be spoken too, hopefully someone that could listen.

It was a good start.

* * *

Missandei of Naath walked through the alleys and streets of Winterfell; trying her best to familiarize herself with the grey and drab surroundings that Jon Snow called home. The cold weather did not agree with her; she had been born and raised in tropical climates, so the cold snow and ice was completely alien to her.

Then again in a way it was simpler to deal with the cold than the heat. If you were too cold in the North you could light a fire or put on a blanket; extra layers of clothing. The heat of desserts of Essos were much harder to drive away and you could only do so much to counteract the effects of them.

It brought a smile to her face to see the Unsullied men begin to mingle with the Northerners. For so long the Unsullied had been little more than killing machines; with no human emotions or personalities of their own. Daenerys had managed to give them back their freedom, their pride in themselves, she gave them purpose and drive.

But here, working besides the men of North they seemed as if they were regaining even more of their humanity. It was a slow process; but at least there was progress.

There were a few Northern soldiers sat in a circle with a couple of Unsullied; many of them were simply eating or doing weapon maintenance. But there was a curious site, an older Northern man was trying put on his armour but having trouble; when a younger Unsullied stepped up to help him.

"Oh, cheers lad. You seem to be helping me a lot recently" the older Northmen smiled as the Unsullied assisted in putting on his armour.

"My Queen ask Unsullied to help; we help" the Unsullied replied; straight forward and to the point.

"Well, we are grateful to her for the help. Even if the lords aren't, its good to have some strong young hands to help at war" the Northerner smiled as he scratched his bushy white beard.

"Northern Lords, not grateful?" the Unsullied asked.

"Half of those Lords can get stuffed as far as we are concerned. We Stark men don't give loyalty to titles; we give loyalty to actions. If Lord Jon wants us to follow your Queen then consider her our Queen too" the Northerner nodded.

Missandei's eyes widened a little as she overheard this conversation, she had hoped some Northerners would be grateful for their Queen bringing all of her forces North. Even if just started out as one old Northman, it was a start nonetheless.

"How old are ya son?" the Old Northerner asked.

"Twenty and five" the Unsullied answered; buckling the old man's pauldron.

"I had a son that would be your age by now. He died fighting for Robb Stark" the old man reminisced.

Missandei smiled as she walked away; giving the men their privacy as they prepared for war. After a few minutes of walking and meeting gazes with the people around her; Missandei spotted a couple of small children staring at her intently a little boy with brown hair and a smaller girl with blonde hair. There was no hate or mistrust in their eyes; but curiosity and confusion.

Missandei understood that these children had probably lived very sheltered lives up to now; and had probably never seen a person like her before. She smiled and walked over to them; crouching down to meet their gazes as they continued to gaze at her.

"Hello" she greeted with a smile.

"H-Hello" the boy greeted back.

"My name is Missandei; what is yours?" She greeted; holding out a gloved hand.

"I-I'm Jory…this is my sister…Uma" the little boy greeted back; his arm wrapped protectively around his sister.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Jory, and you too Uma" Missandei smiled back.

"Why are you brown?" the little girl known as Uma asked. Missandei took a double take as the sweet little girl asked such a…expected question in such a blunt way. Lord Tyrion was right, Northerners could be very blunt at times.

"Because I'm from somewhere were the sun shines brightly all day; and as children it darkens our skin" Missandei explained in a way that children might understand.

"Where are you from…Miss Sun Day?" Jory asked.

"Missandei…I'm from an Island called Naath" she smiled back; chuckling a bit at the boy's mispronunciation.

"Is it nice there?" the little girl Uma asked with wide eyes.

"It's beautiful; the sun shines all day and the waters of the seas around it are sparkling blue. It's always warm and the butterflies are…"

"There are Butterflies?" Uma asked; breaking away from her brother and staring wide eyed at Missandei.

"Yes; do you like Butterflies?" Missandei asked; giggling when the little girl nodded with a huge smile on her face.

Missandei found herself talking with the two children for much longer than she thought; so long that she found herself sat besides them; wrapping little Uma and Jory in her cloak to keep them warm as she told them of Naath and Essos. She told them the tale of how the Mighty Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen saved her and the Unsullied from slavery and how she liberated the now Free Cities of the Dragon's Bay. With every word the children listened more and more intently with baited breath until they came to where they were now.

Missandei thought the North would be full of Bitter, ungrateful people; with hearts as cold as the ice around them. All the same as those people that gave her disgusted looks on their way here; no better than the slave masters that put a collar around her neck and told her she was less than human. But here she was; talking to these two delightful children that hung on her every word.

"Where are your mother and father?" Missandei asked as she noticed no older Northerners taking care of these children. The smiled disappeared from both of their faces as Uma seemed to retract back into Jory's arms.

"Mama, died of the pox. Papa died fighting before…fighting for Robb Stark" Jory sniffed.

"I'm sorry to hear that. My mother and father died long ago too; I understand the pain" Missandei wrapped her arms around the two tiny children. Missandei noticed the rags the children were wearing and it was impossible to not hear the loud sounds of grumbling stomachs that hadn't eaten in a while.

Queen Daenerys had come to save the North; but she couldn't do it alone. And Missandei couldn't just sit by while two beautiful little children like Jory and Uma starved in the cold.

"Are you two hungry?" Missandei asked; their little faces lighting up at her offer.

"Come on…I'll get you hot food, and a warm room to sleep in" Missandei smiled as she wrapped her cloak tighter around them and stood up.

Her heart warmed when little Uma grabbed her hand and looked up at her with eyes full of hope. Jory walked around and grabbed Missandei's other hand, smiling at her with equal joy.

Missandei from the Ilse of Naath wasn't going to turn a blind eye; she had suffered in her life under the boots of those above. She understood what it was like to be cast aside and left to starve, to be ignored like she was less than human. It was in this moment; with two Northern children at her sides did she feel she was making a change for the better.

* * *

***HIIISSSSSSSSS!***

The sound of liquid dragonglass hissing as it was poured into moulds filled the air. The black molten liquid obsidian was a tough material to work with, if you were too light handed it would become brittle and easy to shatter, if you were too hard it wouldn't shape well and would morph into unusable shapes.

Luckily Gendry Waters was a trained Blacksmith; he had been taught by one of the best master smiths in the seven kingdoms, maybe the world. One of the few men able to rework Valyrian steel; a skill Gendry had managed to pick up from his time working in King's Landing.

Shaping Dragonglass into a state it could be used in was hard, but not impossible. It simply took a great deal of skill and a greater deal of patience.

It was a good thing Gendry wasn't the only Blacksmith at work; they had been working around the clock for days, even before the main shipment of Dragonglass had arrived. Dragonglass spears, axes and cleavers were easy enough to create. Arrowheads were a must; stray shards could be used in fortifications.

Unsullied shields and Dothraki arakhs couldn't be made in bulk, so it was better to coat the edges in Dragonglass rather than waste it. Time was also of the essence, with the Army of the dead on their way to Winterfell; there was very little time to waste in creating anything of great beauty.

Functionality over style, words many blacksmiths lived by.

"Gendry! He's here" one other smith called for the Baratheon bastard. Gendry knew exactly who they were referring to as he fetched the double sided Dragonglass battle axe from a nearby work surface.

"You know, it's difficult making a blade that big out of Dragonglass" Gendry said as he walked over and handed the axe to the man who had commissioned it.

The Hound, Sandor Clegane.

"Fuck's sake boy, you aren't selling your shite in King's Landing anymore" Sandor replied as he took the axe from Gendry and inspected the blade.

"All I'm saying it's a tricky material to…"

"Will it shatter the first time I use it?" Sandor asked.

"No" Gendry replied quickly.

"Will it kill Wights?" Sandor asked.

"Should do" Gendry nodded.

"Good, that's all that fucking matters. I didn't need you peddling your bits like some back-alley whore" Sandor said as he ran a thumb down the sharp blade of the axe.

"Leave him be" came a familiar and feminine voice from behind.

Both Sandor and Gendry turned to meet eyes with a girl neither had seen for quite a long time. standing there in her Stark leathers and furs, was the Wild Wolf herself, Arya Stark. Gendry and Sandor had both very different last impressions of the girl standing before them. last Gendry had seen Arya she was screaming after him as the Red Woman took him away to be butchered like a sacrificial lamb.

Sandor however stood up and walked over to Arya, still towering over her tiny little frame. But the Hound could see she had changed, her eyes were different, her posture was different, she was very visibly armed to the teeth. Still carrying that little toothpick at her side yet looking good all things considered.

"You left me to die" he stated.

"First I robbed you" Arya replied.

Sandor's eyes narrowed as he inspected her; one couldn't tell unless they had a trained eye but she had definitely hardened since he last saw her. She wasn't just a short arse little girl anymore; she was lean and well trained; her stance had her ready to leap into action at any second.

She had the eyes of a killer now.

"You're a cold little bitch, aren't you?" Sandor asked knowingly.

Arya's brow simply rose.

"Guess that's why you've survived this long" Sandor's face slowly turned from a narrowed eyed glare to a probably the gentlest smile he ever made. The Hound walked away; his dragonglass battle axe in hand as he left the two young ones alone.

"That was a nice axe you made for him; you've gotten better" Arya nodded to Gendry.

"Thanks, so have you" Gendry replied. An awkward second passed as Gendry realized what he had said had come out wrong; Arya's tilted brow being an identifier for that.

"I-I mean you look…good" Gendry found himself a bit tongue tied.

It was no surprise; the last time he saw her she was a tiny little girl with dirty on her face and dressed like a boy. Now here she was, years later; still short but…definitely matured. She held herself with a confidence that made it impossible for him not to find her attractive, her chocolate brown hair looked luscious and her outfit choice made her look every inch the Wolf.

"Thanks, so do you" she replied; steam erupting from her mouth as she spoke in the cold air.

Arya herself had to admit; the blacksmith boy she knew had grown up substantially as well. He was no longer a well-built boy, but a man with a hardened face and a…still well-built figure. It was no surprise since his life was spent hammering steel into shape. Gendry seemed to notice Arya's eyes wandering, and he immediately felt a need to break the ice.

"Not such a bad place to grow up, if you don't mind the cold" Gendry said as he walked back his work bench.

"Stay close to that forge then"

"Oh, is that a command Lady Stark?" Gendry replied, picking up a Dragonglass sword to inspect it.

"Don't call me that"

"As you wish Mi'Lady" Gendry smirked at her. The memories of times past returning quickly to the forefront of both their minds, the happy memories of their time with Yoren, Hot Pie, Lommy. Admittedly those weren't times that people thought of as happy, they were on their way to the wall, and from what Jon had told her; it's not a place Hot Pie, Lommy or Gendry would have liked.

Slowly but surely a genuine smile returned to the face of the Young woman Arya had become. She was no longer the little girl trying her best to be a Knight, nor was she the emotionless Assassin with no identity of her own. She didn't quite know what she was anymore, but she was gaining things back day by day. And meeting Gendry again reminded her of another piece of her the Faceless men tried to erase.

Reaching into her pockets; Arya retrieved a scroll she had jotted a design down on earlier "Here is my wish" she said as she handed it to Gendry. The young Blacksmith looked at the design, two Dragonglass blades connected by a detachable wooden shaft. Nothing too complicated; achievable and easy to craft with the materials at hand.

"Can you make it?" Arya asked; a silent challenge.

"Shouldn't be that difficult; but why would you want something like this for?" Gendry asked.

"Can you make it or not?" she asked again.

"You've already got a sword; and what's that?" Gendry asked gesturing to the Catspaw. Arya let it go that Gendry had somehow forgotten that a steel blade like Needle wouldn't be much use against Walkers or their foot soldiers.

She unsheathed the dagger and handed it to Gendry; within seconds he recognised the rippled steel of the blade and looked up at Arya with a look of amazement.

"This is Valyrian Steel…I always knew you were just another rich girl" he said with a teasing grin. He used to enjoy getting under her skin with little comments like that, he had hoped it would invoke a reaction like the ones she used to have; pulling a stroppy face before shoving him or pushing him.

He didn't expect her to lean up to his ear and whisper "You don't know any rich girls" in perhaps the most seductive way she could. He didn't even notice her reclaim her dagger from his hands until she had sheathed it on her hip.

Gendry could only stand there, absolutely gobsmacked as the girl he once knew had grown into a strong young woman. She smiled at him with those wolf-like eyes before walking away in the most confident way possible, every inch the she-wolf.

Arya Stark wasn't a little girl anymore.

And Gendry Waters knew it.

* * *

"Our defences will consist of four main perimeters, first a barricade made up of the felled trees about 300 meters from the walls; be sure to leave the branches intact anything that can clutter up the movements of the Wights. It doesn't have to be pretty it just needs to slow them down, break up their ranks, force them to bunch up" Jon directed Jorah, Grey Worm, Qhono, the Northern Commanders and Lord Royce flanked by several Vale Knights.

"There should be a 150-meter gap between the first barricade and the second; this is where the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale can ride down the broken up Wights. From there, about 100 meters from the walls should be a simple trench again to break up their numbers, be sure to create retractable gang planks should our forces need alternate routes to retreat" Jon pointed to where the Unsullied and Northmen were already digging.

"I just hope the Dothraki know how to keep up with a heavy mounted charge" Lord Royce raised a brow as Qhono.

"The Old man should know; he will be slow in his metal dress" Qhono replied in Dothraki. Jorah snickered at the reply leading to Royce giving Qhono a glare.

"Then comes the manned defences; sharpened fortifications lined with Dragonglass, made to funnel the dead and force them to abandon the advantage of their numbers. If we Bottleneck the dead it will give us time to pick off their numbers, smaller trenches in front of the fortifications should help if we have the time" Jon directed the men towards where the fortifications were being built.

"In front of the manned defences will be a trench packed full of wicker, oil, anything flammable we can stuff inside; line it with sharpened spikes, no need to waste Dragonglass on these. If the dead begin to overwhelm us, we will have to light this trench as soon as possible" Jon finished.

"What of the Dragons? Where do they come into play?" Royce asked.

"Queen Daenerys will be flying Drogon back and forth, reigning fire down on the undead whenever she has the chance. I still have to work out some details with her about how Rhaegal will be used in the battle, or how she will have the best chance against Viserion in the skies" Jon replied.

"Having her up there alone is a mistake; if the worst comes to pass, she'll be alone up there with no support" Jorah replied back to Jon; his concern for Daenerys matching Jon's.

"She'll have two dragons, that's more than what we have" Royce replied.

"I do indeed Lord Royce…as I was about to inform Lord Snow of my plans" came the familiar voice of the Dragon Queen from behind.

There she was; the Mighty Dragon Queen herself, Daenerys Stormborn. Wearing the snowy white furred coat that she made her blend in with the environment so well, she looked like a Northern Queen there in the snow; with her red sash standing out against the white. By her sides walked two of Qhono's best Bloodriders, defending their Khaleesi against any that meant her harm.

"Your Grace; we are glad you could join us; we were just discussing the battle plans" Jon nodded in greeting.

"I have no doubt. But the next stage of the plans requires us to make full use of Drogon and Rhaegal; and I can't very well ride two dragons at once" Daenerys smiled as she approached Jon.

"What are you suggesting?" Jon asked with a raised brow as did everyone else present.

"My lords, if I may steal Lord Snow away from you for a moment?" Daenerys asked as she stood beside Jon.

Why did Jon not have a good feeling about this?"

A few minutes later, after the Lords and commanders had left to go about the preparations; Jon found out. And the look of shock on his face had momentarily caused Daenerys to give one of her rare laughs, and that did help calm Jon's nerves somewhat. Seeing the Queen let go and enjoy a moment of merriment did wonders for him; he loved to see her happy. But still…her proposition was not something a student of history would exactly accept with a smile. As Jon and Daenerys walked through the snows up their destination; Winterfell shrinking in the distance, he spoke freely as did she.

"You want me…to ride…a Dragon?" Jon asked; steam emitting from his mouth with his words.

"For the third time Jon, yes" Dany smiled as she slipped an arm around Jon's and leaned into him as they walked. She enjoyed being this free with him; free to touch him and speak with him however she pleased.

"Alright, touching Drogon while you are riding him is one thing…but riding a Dragon by myself…"

"Rhaegal, he has a name you know" Dany replied quickly.

"Sorry…but riding Rhaegal by myself is a completely different matter. I've read stories about what happens when those without Valyrian blood try to ride dragons. And being burned alive by a dragon is not the way I intend on dying" Jon replied.

"Don't worry my love. I have a theory" Dany giggled.

"A theory? About what?" Jon asked.

"I believe you may have some Targaryen blood in you, from your mystery mother's side" Dany replied, meeting eyes with Jon.

"Excuse me?"

"House Targaryen aren't the only people in the world with Valyrian blood. House Dayne, House Baratheon and even House Martell have smidges of Targaryen blood in their veins" Dany continued with her theory.

"But my mother was lowborn, she wasn't a Dayne or a Baratheon and she certainly wasn't a Martell" Jon replied.

"Perhaps a descendant of a Blackfyre, or the descendant of a Targaryen bastard that survived the Dance of Dragons. If you had petted Rhaegal or Viserion on Dragonstone I wouldn't be thinking this…but Drogon has only ever allowed me to touch him, until you did" Dany smiled.

"And you really want me to just hop on Rhaegal's back and ride him like a horse?" Jon asked.

"Dragons are not horses, Jon. They are so much more than just beasts that you ride on; they are intelligent, sentient, they can feel you and you can feel them in ways that regular people can never understand" Dany tired to put the feelings into words.

"I have no clue what you're on about" Jon chuckled, earning a playful hit to the shoulder.

"You'll see" Dany giggled with him.

The two massive topics of conversation came into view; gnawing on the charred bones of goats and sheep, the loud grumbling of the two brothers sounded like thunder as they noticed the arrival of their mother and her mate. Drogon recognised the black haired one; he liked him, unlike the other humans he smelled…right.

Rhaegal had only seen the black haired one from a distance, but he could feel what his mother felt. This one made his mother happy, so he would give him a chance before burning him…if mother asked. Then again, the closer he got to him and his brother; the way he smelled…he could smell him…he smelled right. He didn't smell like prey or an enemy that should be destroyed, he smelled; like kin.

The two brothers perked up when Jon and Daenerys got close; Jon's eyes were practically fixed on Rhaegal, and the Emerald green dragon had his eyes fixed on Jon. He was smaller than Drogon, but he was still a giant fire breathing dragon whose ancestors set the enemies of Aegon the conqueror aflame.

"They haven't eaten much" Dany said as she walked up and laid her palm on Drogon's snout.

Jon almost let out a fearful chuckle when he looked at the amount of charred remains were scattered everywhere. If this wasn't a lot, then what in seven hells constituted a feast for a Dragon?

"Why not? Something wrong?" Jon asked as Rhaegal lowered his head down to Jon's level.

"Their brother died here…the snow probably reminds them" Dany ran her hand along Drogon's scales as he gave a loud, low groan.

Jon saw Rhaegal's eyes as he inched closer to him; the Dragon was obviously smelling him with the number of snorts he was giving off. And the way his huge eyes followed Jon around definitely spoke leagues about the curiosity the dragon was showing.

"He's trying to know you…don't be afraid" Dany said as she rubbed her hands along Drogon's snout.

Jon reached forward, steadily and slowly as not to spook Rhaegal. If you spooked a horse it would rear and neigh, he didn't want to know what happened if you spooked a Dragon. But before Jon knew it, he found Dany's hands wrapped around his own and guiding them to the Dragon's scaly hide.

"Feel him…feel his breathing…feel his warmth" Dany whispered in Jon's ear.

Jon slowly shut his eyes and let his hands wander; he could feel every breath Rhaegal took, every beat of his heart, the strong armoured hide of the dragon beneath his hands. It felt as if every breath Jon took was in synchronisation with Rhaegal's, it was an odd sensation, very unlike anything he had felt before. He could almost feel the raw power surging within the Dragon's veins, the magic that gave him life.

"Alright then…let's get on" Dany smiled and walked away. Jon's eyes shot wide open and he saw naught but a massive yellow slit pupil staring right back at him.

When he looked up, Dany had already mounted Drogon like an expert; as if mounting a dragon was as easy as sitting down in a chair. The elegant way she sat on the back of the mightiest beast alive…Jon had to admit it did things to him.

"Go on" she nodded towards Rhaegal.

"It can't be that easy…I don't know how to ride a Dragon!" Jon emphasised with his arms.

"No one does…until they ride a dragon. Do you think I was an expert when I first got on Drogon?" Dany tilted her head.

"But…what if he doesn't want me to?" Jon asked as he looked back and forth between the expecting Dany and the equally expecting Rhaegal.

"Then I will miss our warm nights together" Dany smiled brightly as him.

Jon looked at Rhaegal in the eyes one more time; praying to whatever gods were listening that the dragon wouldn't do a 180 and set him alight or bite him in half. Slowly and steadily walking around to Rhaegal's side, Jon began his ascent onto the Dragon's back.

Not nearly as regal or as graceful as his lady love, mind you.

As Jon clumsily fell onto Rhaegal's back with discomforted grunts and groans of exertion, Dany just watched with an amused smile on her face. When Jon fell flat on his face over Rhaegal's spine; Dany had to look away to let out a short chuckle.

Taking a moment to take in Rhaegal; Jon looked over to Dany and yelled "What do I hold onto?!"

"Whatever you can…" Dany finished with a loving smile.

Jon grabbed hold of the spikes that looked like the most stable things to hold onto, but the moment he had a grip…

"WHOAAAAAAAAAA!" Jon cried as Rhaegal lifted himself from the air and took off at high speeds.

Dany smiled before grabbing onto Drogon's spikes and taking off herself; right on Jon and Rhaegal's tail. The powerful beating of dragon wings and a gust that could break trees from their roots filled the air as for the first time in hundreds of years.

The Dragons danced.

Jon felt the wind blowing through his hair, into his face; sending his senses into overdrive as he felt his insides turn inside out. He could feel the water from his eyes leaking and his tears freezing on his face as he ascended higher through the air. The feeling of being separated from the ground overwhelmed him and he could not make heads or tails of the situation.

Walking on the battlements of Winterfell or the hills of Dragonstone was nothing compared to this. As the howling wind threatened to blow his eardrums, Jon could feel his heartbeat faster and faster; he felt the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and just cling to the dragon until it was all over.

But when he closed his eyes, he felt something.

A second heartbeat, a pulse that wasn't his own.

He felt a myriad of different emotions and feelings rush through his head and heart. It almost seemed as if time had frozen to a halt in those few seconds, Anger, Pain, Grief, Loss; all coursed through his head as he saw the images of that fateful day.

The day Viserion died.

He saw the Gold and white dragon fall and crash into the Ice with a deafening scream.

But then he saw another memory intertwine with it, a familiar memory.

Rickon, sprinting towards him before being skewered with one of Ramsey Bolton's arrows. His pained wheezing and whimpers intermingled with the screeches of a dying dragon, the faces of Ramsey Bolton and the Night King slowly morphing and mixing together.

The death of a brother.

He felt dragonfire ignite in his veins; but before he could roar out in anguish and rage, he saw another memory; another unfamiliar memory from a past he had not seen.

Daenerys; walking in the middle of a barren wasteland; red sands and jagged rocks littering the landscape. She looked younger but no less beautiful, she was wearing probably the most scandalous thing he had ever seen her wear, bearing plenty of her beautifully soft skin. Flanked by Dothraki and trying to feed a tiny Drogon perched on her shoulder.

She looked like a vision.

That memory began to intermingle with another memory, when she waited for him to wake up on the boat, after Viserion had been killed. He remembered, that was the moment he truly fell for her; seeing her so vulnerable, so human, the way the light from the cabin windows caressed her soft figure. The way her tears highlighted the violet of her eyes, the soft voice she spoke to him in as she held his hand in hers.

'_I hope I deserve it'_

'_You do'_

Jon felt another voice…no…not a voice…a collection of voices familiar to him, the voices of those he trusted most. His father Ned Stark, His Uncle Benjen, Ser Roderick, Robb, Lord Commander Mormont, Sam, Grenn, Pyp, Edd, Tormund…Ygritte. They all spoke to him at once, in a rhythm that let him hear all of their voices at once.

'_Breath rider…breath…and let me in' _

Jon's eyes shot wide open and he could feel the air racing past his face again, he could feel the powerful beating of Rhaegal's wings, he could hear the air whooshing past his ears and he could see Winterfell down below; shrinking into the distance.

The men down below all looked up in awe as they saw their Lord riding on the back of the Emerald green Dragon. Arya watched, almost slack jawed at the site of Jon; her brother the brooding quiet Jon, riding on the back of a Mighty Dragon; a slight hint of playful jealously in her eyes. Davos and Tyrion looked as if their lowers jaws would hit the floor from the confusion and amazement in their eyes.

Jon tried to concentrate, to get a hold of himself and to control the feelings he felt surging through him. This was just like riding a Horse he told himself, like wielding a sword, just concentrate and control yourself, restrain yourself.

But the voice spoke again.

'_Let go Rider…be free…you must be free'_

With a sudden gust of air, Drogon with Daenerys riding on his back raced past both him and Rhaegal with ease; gliding through the air as if they were one being. Jon could still feel the air harshly brushing his face; the frozen tears leaking down his face.

'Wolves aren't meant to fly' he told himself 'Wolves aren't meant to fly'

He heard the voice again.

'_But you are not a Wolf…you are me…you are a Dragon' _

When Daenerys looked back and met eyes with Jon; he could see it. The fire in her eyes, the freedom in the way she handled Drogon. She looked as if she had been born on his back; she did not yield to the wind or the pressure, she didn't have an ounce of fear in her eyes.

She was free.

Up here, she was pure freedom.

Jon could feel the little voice that had always spoken in his head, the voice that always told him he was nought but a Bastard, a mistake, a stain on the name of the Honourable Lord Eddard Stark, the voice that told him he would never amount to anything.

'_You shouldn't be up here'_

'_You shouldn't be with her'_

'_you don't deserve a woman like that'_

'_you are just a lowly bastard' _

'_SHUT UP!'_ he felt himself scream back at the voice…no…not scream…not howl…roar.

Drogon dove downwards into a nearby ravine; Rhaegal accelerating to catch up with him.

He felt the fire burn, the fire he felt when he cut through Wights when Viserion died, the fire he felt when he made love to Dany on the boat, the fire he felt when he defended her in front of the Northern Lords, the fire that he felt when he told her he loved her.

The fire he felt when she told him she loved him.

'_Let go rider…let go'_

Rhaegal descended.

When Rhaegal descended Jon could feel the wind bite his face, he could feel the smaller voice try to shut him down, to tell him how worthless he was. While the voice powered by the people he trusted got louder and louder the lower Rhaegal descended.

'_Let go Rider!'_

He had been listening to that smaller voice his entire life, listen to it tell him to keep his head down and know his place.

'_Let Go Rider!'_

He had listened to it whenever Catlyn Stark glared at him, whenever Alister Throne shot him down, whenever someone called him 'bastard' with a sneer on their lips or a snarl in their voice. He had let that word and the instruction of that voice rule his life for too long.

'_LET GO RIDER!'_

He had let that voice put him in a cage, control him, domesticate him! He was not to blame for however his birth went! He was a proud warrior! He was the son of Eddard Stark! He was of the North! His name was the North! His name was Snow! But right now…

'_LET GO JON!'_

He was Fire.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Jon roared as Rhaegal descended; the fire coursed through his veins as he felt the smaller voice burn and scream and die within him, as if consumed by Dragonfire. Jon felt the sun light his face and the cold disappear when Rhaegal levelled out.

Jon didn't feel his heart stop, he felt it ignite. He could feel Rhaegal's heartbeat in tandem with his. His breathing now as strong and as powerful as the Dragon's, he could feel himself in complete synchronization with the dragon beneath him.

No…Not dragon…he had a name…Rhaegal.

Jon could feel everything, the biting gnawing of cold wind became gentle breezes, the powerful gusts of wind that threatened to blow him off of Rhaegal's back were nothing to him. He felt the adrenaline surge through his system as Rhaegal crested and began to speed up, the human on his back no longer a weight…but a part of him.

Jon saw Dany looking back at him with a smile spread across her face; her beautiful face, the sun reflecting off of her long silver braids and her white fur coat. Jon could feel fire in his breast; a fire that needed to burn as he gripped Rhaegal's spikes and spoke back to the dragon that set him free.

"Climb!"

Rhaegal knew exactly what his rider wanted and with all the strength in his wings he shot upwards, towards the thick layer of clouds above. Dany looked to see Jon and Rhaegal climb and a grin spread across her joyous face as she turned Drogon and followed the man she loved towards the clouds.

"Higher boy! Higher!" Jon began to laugh as he felt the wind blow through him.

Rhaegal roared a mighty cry as he pierced the clouds like an arrow and shot up into the skies above. Jon's eyes widened in awe of the sight around him; the ground didn't exist up here, no Winterfell, no North, no snow or ice.

Just the open air, the sun on the horizon and the clouds beneath him. Jon could feel his heartbeat in perfect synchronization with Rhaegal's as they slowly climbed higher. But as they did, Jon could feel a presence and a powerful gust of air.

He looked to his right and she was there, mere inches from him. Dany had ridden Drogon opposite to Jon and Rhaegal, the dragons had their backs to one another so their riders could meet in the air. Her smile was the stuff of songs as she gazed lovingly at her amazing Dragon rider.

He could even smell her sweet aroma from this close; all he would have to do is lean a few inches forward and their lips would meet. But before he had the chance to lunge forward, both Rhaegal and Drogon began to plummet, the air rushed through both Dany and Jon as they soared downwards. The Adrenaline threatening to set them alight as they pierced the clouds once again, and soaring like gods of the skies.

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOO!" Jon let out an uncharacteristic yell, similar to one Dany would often hear from her Bloodriders. Jon was letting go, he had spent his entire life caged and restrained.

No longer.

Dany smiled, laughed and let out a cry of her own "WOOOOOOOOOOOOHOOOOOOOO!" in tandem with Jon; letting all of the tension, all of the worries, all of the dread and pain evaporate like steam.

Drogon and Rhaegal seemed to join in as both let out long and mighty roars; echoing through the valley beneath them. They answered to neither gods nor men, they were Dragons and the skies were their domain, none other's.

The adrenaline rush was beginning to take its toll on Jon as he began to feel his hands tremble and his knees wobbling. They needed to land, so he scanned the area and saw a perfect place to set down.

Once Rhaegal landed, Jon pretty much leapt from the back of the Dragon and ran around to his face; grabbing the sides of Rhaegal's head and hugging hit to his chest, his eyes gazing into Rhaegal's as he let out an exhausted yet exhilarated laugh.

"You…Are…Amazing" Jon wheezed between laughs.

Dany dismounted Drogon a few meteres away and slowly approached Jon with her hands clasped in front of her. She saw the way Jon was looking at Rhaegal, so different to the way he looked at him before, he was even laying his head against Rhaegal's head and listening to his breathing.

"Well?" Dany asked.

"He's amazing…they're both amazing…you're amazing" Jon wheezed gazing back and forth between Rhaegal, Drogon and finally Dany.

The way Jon looked at her made Dany blush; that look was unlike any look anyone had given her before. She had seen looks of awe and amazement, looks of those enraptured by her beauty and those amazed by her power. But Jon's eyes were unlike any other she had ever seen in her life, he looked at her in a way no one had ever looked at her before.

He looked at her like she was all that existed.

All that mattered.

Like an equal.

"I know what you meant now…it was…like I became a part of him…and he became a part of me. It wasn't like riding a horse at all…it was…so much more" Jon gasped between every word as he smiled like an idiot as he stroked Rhaegal.

"I take back what I said…about them being beasts; they aren't. They're amazing, beautiful, extraordinary…I…I" Jon began stammering his words until Dany cupped his face in her hands.

"I understand…you don't have to convince me Jon" she laughed gleefully.

"Come on…I want to show you something" Jon almost whispered as he rose up and took her hands in his.

Dany smiled as she let Jon take her by the hand lead her off towards whatever he had led them to. Jon knew these lands better than she ever could; so, she trusted that whatever it was, it would be spectacular. And when the two of them came upon it…she understood why.

A Waterfall.

A beautiful glacial waterfall; flowing waters, hanging icicles, fresh fallen snow all illumined by the gleaming sun. Dany had to admit; the North had its wonders and this was certainly one of them, with the sun glancing off of every snowflake and every drop of water the landscape looked like a paradise in an otherwise frozen wasteland.

A pair of arms wrapped around her waist from behind her as Jon lay his head in the crook of her neck.

"My father showed me this place…when I was just a young lad, no younger than 6. He would treat me like a real son here; we wouldn't have to worry about Lady Stark giving me glares of hate or any of the Northerners calling me a 'worthless bastard' to my face. This was one of the few places I could be happy without having to look over my shoulder" Jon whispered in her ear.

"And you are showing me. Why?" Dany asked; wanting to know why Jon would share something this special with her.

"Because here. You don't have to be Queen Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons, Breaker of Chains and owner of various other titles. And I wouldn't have to be the Bastard of Winterfell. We can just be Jon…and Dany" he smiled before placing a loving kiss on her cheek.

"We could stay a thousand years here…and no one would ever find us" Dany sighed as she leaned her head against Jon.

"We would be awfully old" Jon smiled against her.

Daenerys appreciated his little jest, but she felt an itch creep up her spine and a question niggling in the insides of her heart. She broke away from her Jon's loving and embrace a took a few steps away, Jon stood there wondering if he said something wrong, but Dany turned back to him with a question.

"If I asked, would you?" Dany asked.

"Would I what?"

"Stay with me…here. For as long as we wanted; in a place where the world couldn't judge us, where we could be our true selves with each other. Were we didn't have to hold crowns or fight over power or worry about betrayal and the past that would have kept us apart?" Dany asked.

"Dany…" Jon said with an air of caution; what was she trying to say.

"Would you be with me? For as long as I asked? That no matter where I went, you would be with me?" Dany asked.

"But…what about the Throne?" he asked; reaching out and taking her hands.

"It's what you've always wanted…isn't it?" he asked.

"What I tell you here…I've never told anyone. The Throne was a goal to protect those who have suffered, to the gain the power to help them and make sure they would never have to suffer again. But the Throne…it never even occurred to me until my Husband and son had died. Before then I only ever wanted one thing…something I never had…" Dany began; Jon caressing her hands in his.

"…Home" she whispered; tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up at Jon.

"Home?" he asked.

"A place I never thought existed. All my life I've been on the run; fearing for my life, running from Robert's Assassins, liberating cities from the cruel monsters that oppressed the people beneath them. In all that time…the closest I ever felt to being home was a time in Braavos. Where an Old Knight watched over my brother and I, in a house with a red door and a Lemon tree in the window" she smiled a she remembered the red door.

"I always thought home would be Westeros…or King's Landing, Dragonstone where I was born or even the Throne itself…but then I met you…" Dany reached up and cupped Jon's face in her hands.

"…My brave, stupid Northerner…who didn't bend the knee. Who told stories of dead men, who didn't flinch in the face of a Dragon, who wasn't afraid to risk his life for his people…to die for his people…" Dany whispered as she brought Jon's face closer to hers.

"You…you are my home, Jon. I've never been surer of anything in my life. If you asked me to, I would throw my crown into the narrow sea and strip myself of my armies and my titles…and live with you, here at the waterfall your father took you to when you were just a lad" Dany smiled before she pulled away a few inches and asked again.

"Jon…would you be with me?" Dany asked with a tremble in her voice.

There was only one thing Jon could say to this beautiful woman; this goddess of fire and grace that had captured his heart. This wonderful woman that would throw away everything she owned for him; the woman that had given him her armies and her Amazing sons, that had sacrificed so much for him since meeting him. He knew how the Northerners still didn't trust her, how Sansa still didn't trust her, how she didn't fit with what the Northerners wanted in their need for independence.

"All my life…I've felt empty, whenever Lady Stark looked at me like I was scum. Whenever I heard the name Snow, whenever I was reminded that I wasn't my father's lawful son. At the Wall I was shunned and betrayed, even when the Northerners named me their king it didn't feel right. But when I'm with you…I feel whole…you say I'm your home…but you're mine" Jon's eyes began tearing up.

All the people that hated her, all the people that shunned him for bending his knee to her, those that wouldn't approve of their love.

They could all go hang for all he cared.

"You'll be with me?" Dany smiled, full of hope as a tear ran down her cheek.

"Now…and Always" he whispered back as he placed a hand tenderly on her cheek as the tears began to fall from both their eyes.

The Wolf and his Dragon met lips and shared in their love and passion in front of the Waterfall. A Perfect moment if one ever existed; as Dany wrapped her arms around Jon's neck and Jon's arms found her waist. Everything else vanished around the two Lovers in the snow; the two people born and raised in the darkness, that had found each other in the light before the Long Night came for them.

A loud and deep grumbling growl snapped the two out of their passionate kiss; looking to see that Drogon and Rhaegal were watching the two intently. Dany giggled and Jon let out a nervous chuckle at the way Rhaegal tilted his head as if to say "Uh…what?"

"Do they have to stare like that?" Jon asked.

"Don't mind them, my love" Dany cupped Jon's face once again and brought his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss. When the two of them turned; finally finding the place they belonged, Jon couldn't help but notice he felt another pair of eyes on him.

He opened his eyes, his lips still connected to Dany's and he saw Drogon staring at him intently. The look in the black dragon's burning red eyes communicated a very simple and easy to understand message that a member of any species would understand.

'_Hurt my Mother, and I'll fucking kill you' _

* * *

**OOOOOH MYYYYY GOOOOD I LOVED WRITING THAT WHOLE SEQUENCE, much better than 'You've ruined horses for me' AMIRIGHT!? I wanted this sequence to really flesh out Jon's inner dragon and to show the part of him he had been missing for so long. **

**Dany's true motivations and wants revealed to her love, a sweet and emotional moment (I even repackaged some of that nightmare from episode 6 to fit this scene) **

**NEXT CHAPTER: The heritage is revealed, Jamie and Bronn come across strange allies, a figure from the past returns for the coming night, and Bran gets a flash of the past that reveals more than he thought.**

**Please, like always be sure to show what you thought, PM ME, REVIEWS, FOLLOWS THEY ALL HELP. **

**I've been overwhelmed by the support you guys have given me in this little journey of ours, and I pray it will be a hell of a ride.**


	6. Dragon in Wolf's Clothing

**HI EVERYBODY, I'M BACK! Yeah, this one took a little bit longer but I hope it's worth the wait. Just to clear up a couple of things before we get back into it, just to let everyone know THIS STORY WILL NOT BE GOING THE SAME WAY SEASON 8 DID! I'm pretty sure like most of you, I liked the first 2 episodes and elements of 3…but after that was when everything went into shit. **

**This story will be going where I thought it should have gone. Not how those two dibshits wanted it to go. **

**PS: I would like to indeed credit the battle strategy I laid out in the last chapter to the Youtuber Invicta and his improved battle plan for the defence of Winterfell.**

**Also be sure to check out my man Longclaw 1-6's GoT fics, Heart of the Blessed and Empire of Ice and Fire for more Jonerys goodness. He's been a huge help and a great support so be sure to check out his stuff.**

**Now AWAY WE GO!**

**Chapter 6: Dragon in Wolf's Clothing**

Through spending the majority of his life in the snow and ice; Jon Snow found that nothing cleared the senses better than a splash of cold water to the face. And icy cold water; fresh from a running waterfall was the best kind.

Jon happily gathered the running water into his hands and splashed it freely into his face; rubbing it through his beard and swilling out his mouth with it. He stood there at the waterfall; at the entrance of the cave wearing only his boots and leathers; totally shirtless as he exposed his torso to the chilling breeze.

Ever since getting off Rhaegal it felt as if the cold had no sway over him, as a descendant of the First men he already had a natural affinity for the cold; but now he could feel that inner fire warming him.

"What are you doing my love?" came the sweet voice from inside the cave.

"Washing up" Jon smiled as he turned and walked back into the cave.

There laying down on his cloak was the naked form of Daenerys Targaryen; her smooth feminine form almost glowing in the low light, a single torch illuminating her nude form. She looked like a goddess; more so than usual, a Goddess he would always be glad to worship.

"You are clean enough, now get back here" Dany smiled, patting the free spot beside her.

Jon smiled before laying down beside her; he immediately wrapped his right arm around her shoulders and brought her in for a soft kiss on the lips. Feeling Dany smile against his lips was a feeling he never got tired of; even as he brought up his left hand to stroke her cheek.

"Did I succeed in keeping my Queen warm?" Jon asked.

"You did…such a loyal subject" Dany whispered against his lips as he hands lay against his chest.

"I do as my Queen commands" Jon whispered hotly against her lips before they met again.

A few more minutes followed of Jon and Daenerys simply holding each other; kissing lovingly and passionately as Jon's hands roamed across Dany's smooth skin and Dany's hands trailed across the scared chest of her Northern lover. Then, all of a sudden, a loud grumbling sound broke the near silence that the two lovers shared; the kiss was broken and Jon had a hard time not bursting out into laughter.

"Hungry?" Jon chuckled.

"You'll find Jon Snow, that dragon riding takes up a lot of energy" Dany playfully smirked at him.

"Well, when we get back to Winterfell; I'll treat you to some proper Northern delicacies" Jon smiled as he rubbed a thumb against her cheek.

"Mmmm, do tell" Dany smiled and nuzzled into Jon.

"When I was a boy, Old Nan used to make the best Kidney pies…with peas, onions and oh seven hells the gravy she used…you would swear she used magic to make those pies" Jon whispered as he reminisced.

"You really aren't helping my cravings. I could eat a cow I'm so hungry" Dany smiled against Jon's skin.

"Really? Mother of Dragons indeed; I always thought highborn Southern ladies like you would have dainty appetites" Jon smiled; rubbing Dany's soft skin.

"Oh, I wouldn't know, I once ate a whole raw horse heart" Dany replied.

"Really?"

"Really. What's the strangest thing you've eaten?" Dany asked as her fingers danced along Jon's scars.

"The Free Folk used to eat and drink some bizarre stuff. Whale blubber, seal, they even drink fermented goat's milk instead of wine" Jon replied.

"Lightweight. Try eating nothing but dried horsemeat for months on end, and washing it down with sour mare's milk" Dany giggled in reply.

Jon couldn't help but love seeing her this way; not just naked, but open and free. She didn't need to act strong when it was just them, she didn't need to hide her emotions or her feelings when they were alone. She was beautiful in every way he could see; she was smart, witty, funny and every time she gave a genuine smile it warmed his heart. He could practically hear Davos' words ringing out in his head as she giggled and told stories of her time with the Dothraki.

'I'm happy for you'

'She's a beautiful young woman'

'She's been through hell, just like you'

'You both deserve to be happy'

Then one thought crossed his mind; one that solidified his resolve in the question lingering in his mind. A question that Davos asked him that he had been pondering since; something Jon never thought he would say since learning of what he was as a young boy named Snow. But since meeting her, seeing her strength, her love for her people, being saved beyond the wall by her, falling in love with her, and bonding with her in ways he never thought possible.

'_When the dead come…do you want to have any regrets?'_

"Marry me" Jon blurted out; causing Daenerys' face to freeze in a look of shock.

"…W-What?" Dany asked; taken aback by the boldness of her wolf.

"Be with me; Marry me Dany. I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you" Jon almost begged as he cupped Dany's cheek in his hand.

"…T-The…The Northern Lords wouldn't…"

"Fuck the Northern Lords! I'm sick of being told what I can and can't have by men who refused to stand by me when I needed them most…men who can't see what I've sacrificed to save them. For once in my life I do something not for honour, or for duty, not for the betterment of the North or for some political or military gain. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine" Jon could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as tears began to well up in Dany's.

"Are you really sure?" Dany's voice trembled as she asked.

"I've never been surer of anything in my life. Daenerys Stormborn…" Jon took both of Dany's hands in his.

"…Would you take the hand of a Lowly Bastard boy…with nothing but his heart to offer?" Jon asked. Dany smiled and reached up to cup Jon's face in her hands.

"I am yours…and you are mine" Dany's voice trembled as she smiled.

Their lips came together gently and passionately as both Drogon and Rhaegal let out a pair of powerful and loud roars; feeling the passion, love and joy of their riders from within the cave.

* * *

"_The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,_

_in a voice that was sweet as a peach_

_But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,_

_and a bite sharp and cold as a leech"_

The singing voice of Ser Bronn of the Blackwater was as velvety and soft as it had always been; he knew exactly what notes to hit, when to go low or when to go high, and mostly he knew the lyrics like the back of his hand. Speaking of hands, the man with only one; riding next to Bronn on horseback was not enjoying himself.

"Do you have to keep singing that bloody song?" Jamie asked.

"No, not really. But it helps pass the time…do you want me to stop?" Bronn asked; pausing in his song in order to reply.

"Yes"

"Tough fucking luck" Bronn smirked.

"Can you at least sing something else?" Jamie asked.

"Ugh…alright then, what do you want me to sing?" Bronn asked.

"How about the sound of silence?" Jamie retorted.

"Oh, ha bloody ha. The Proud Lion think's he is a fucking comedian" Bronn replied quickly.

"You could sing the rains of…"

"Castamere? Oh yes and let every fucker within hearing distance know who you are. A one-handed blonde man with a Valyrian steel sword and a traveling companion singing a Lannister song, oh I fucking wonder who that is?" Bronn scoffed with a shake of his head.

The two had been riding for days, now well into the North with the snow falling lightly onto them. It was easier passing the neck than they originally thought; both Jamie and Bronn expected to be stopped by the men of House Reed, to be questioned as to why they were coming North alone. Instead they passed without trouble, nothing standing between them and the road to Winterfell. It was almost like they were being watched over by some force…or being cursed as both Jamie and Bronn knew what they were heading into.

Neither was looking forward to facing what the King in the North warned them of.

"What in seven hells?" Bronn said; wide eyed as he and Jamie crested over a hill.

Standing there, to attention were a large number of men armed with spears, short swords, longbows and short bows, and shields bearing a particular sigil, the Lizard of House Reed. On horseback a few feet in front were another two people. One a young girl, with raven hair and a bow slung across her back; the other an older man with short grey hair of short stature and wrinkled skin. The man didn't look like he had aged well as he looked twice as old as he actually was.

"Ser Jamie Lannister…we've been waiting for you" the older man smiled.

"Lord Howland Reed…it's been a long time, if you don't mind me saying you look like shit" Jamie replied, earning a chuckle from Howland and a scathing look from the girl.

"My Lord, this is my daughter, Meera. We thought it best to meet with you and your forces a little past the neck and escort you to Winterfell ourselves" Howland smiled wearily.

"Where are the Lannister forces that you promised?" Meera asked with an arched brow.

"I'm afraid it's just us. My sister has ordered all of the Westerland armies to remain in Crownlands" Jamie replied.

"Ah…something like this was to be expected" Howland smiled sadly as Meera's grip on the reigns tightened.

"Queen Daenerys and King Jon won't be pleased to hear this development. May I ask why it is you two have come?" Howland asked.

"I made an oath to come North. My sister may not realize the threat but I do" Jamie replied with a nod; he realized a familiarity in Howland's voice when he mentioned 'King Jon' then again Howland was a close friend of Ned Stark.

"And you?" Howland looked to Bronn.

"Just an up jump Sellsword who doesn't want to die poor" Bronn replied with smirk.

"Fair enough" Howland nodded as he turned his horse to ride; Meera doing the same. Jamie and Bronn were surprised that the answers they gave were satisfactory to the Northern lord, so they did what came naturally and began to ride with both Howland and his daughter.

"How many men do you have with you? If you don't mind me asking" Jamie asked when he caught up to Howland.

"Five Hundred good men. All skilled with the bow and spear" Howland replied.

"Five Hundred? Is that it?" Jamie asked.

"It's more than what you've brought. I've left the other 1500 men at my command to guard the Neck" Howland replied with that same weary voice.

"Guard the Neck? Are you concerned my sister will come North to fight us?" Jamie asked with a raised brow.

"No…if we fail in halting the dead at Winterfell. The Neck will be the last place we can hold out against them, House Reed has a sacred duty in protecting the Neck" Howland responded.

"Hence why only the 500 men?" Jamie asked rhetorically.

"The Crannogmen of House Reed aren't the strongest, nor are we the tallest or the fastest or the most experienced in combat. But I swore an oath to Eddard Stark a long time ago, my daughter swore an oath to his son Brandon, the Long Night is here Ser Jamie…and one thing my house does not do, is go back on their word" Howland replied as his horse trotted ahead.

Bronn came up to Jamie with a sceptical look on his face.

"So…instead of the thousands of Lannister men you promised, we are arriving at Winterfell with 500 short arses that live in the middle of a fucking swamp?" Bronn asked.

"It's better than nothing" Jamie replied.

"I have no doubt these fuckers are good at fighting in a swamp. They probably blend right in with the mud and rat shit; you wouldn't know they were there until they were hip deep in your arsehole…but I don't see this lot doing much good in a siege" Bronn replied.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Jamie gave Bronn a side look.

"Yeah, I could bash your fucking skull in, take that lovely Valyrian steel sword and bugger off to Essos" Bronn replied.

"Then why don't you?" Jamie asked.

"Like I said, I don't fancy having my work my arse off in Essos to make up for all the wasted time here" Bronn replied quickly.

"Really? Nothing to do with the end times? Or a secret loyalty to my brother or I?" Jamie asked with a raised brow and grin.

"Don't push your fucking luck" Bronn smirked.

* * *

"He's a good man Khaleesi, a bit awkward and bumbling. But brave, kind and very wise for a man of his age" Jorah explained as he walked beside his Queen.

"Any man that did what he did for you deserves to be rewarded, Ser Jorah. That and I've heard he is a very good friend of Jon" Dany replied with a bright and wide smile.

Jorah had to admit it was good seeing Daenerys this happy; if he were a younger man he would have been steaming with jealousy and hatred for Jon Snow. But unlike Daario, Jon was good, noble and honourable, he had that same look of love in his eyes that Jorah had and didn't simply lust for the power she held. Jorah was an old man by all standards, he loved Daenerys like he had never loved anyone, but he had sworn to himself that he would do anything for her.

Even let her go.

But even then, he could trust Jon. Jon was the man his father had entrusted Longclaw to; he was the man that Jorah couldn't be, and Daenerys deserved to be happy. Jorah could trust his Queen's happiness with his fellow Northman, he was content to serve and give his life to protect her.

The doors to the library opened and in walked the Bear Knight and his Dragon Queen; the blinds were all closed and a few candles were the only light available. The entire library was empty, the only sounds audible being the footsteps of Daenerys, Ser Jorah and the unmistakable sounds of pages being turned.

It didn't take long for Daenerys and Jorah to find the source of that sound; a very rotund man in black, turning the pages of some dusty old tome. Smiling at the how into the book the man seemed, Dany cleared out her throat to get his attention.

"Oh!" Sam quickly perked up and stood to attention to the woman who was unmistakably Daenerys Targaryen.

"So, you're the man?" Dany smiled.

"Um, which man am I…your grace?" Sam asked nervously, now in the presence of a Queen.

"The man who saved Ser Jorah when no one else could" Dany continued.

"They could have…they just wouldn't" Jorah added.

Sam smiled with pride in himself, seeing Ser Jorah back on his feet and back in the service of the Dragon Queen. It was something to take pride in after all, fully curing a man of Greyscale without getting infected himself.

"I'll have to make some changes to the Citadel when I take the Throne. A great service merits a great reward" Dany smiled as she stepped closer to Sam.

"Oh, it's my honour to serve you, your grace" Sam bashfully replied.

"There must be something I can do for you. Name it and if it's in my power I will grant it" Dany smiled, eager to reward the man that brought her faithful Bear Knight back to her.

"If it's not too much trouble…I could use a Pardon" Sam replied.

"For what crime?" Daenerys asked with a look of curiosity. Whatever the crime was; it couldn't be too bad; this man was one of Jon's closest friends from what he had told her. that and he looked harmless, like an overstuffed teddy bear with a sweet face.

"I…borrowed a few books from the citadel…" Sam began with an embarrassed look. Dany smiled at Jorah for this, stealing a few books from men who refused to help Jorah was barely a crime at all in her eyes; she could easily give him a pardon for that.

"…Also, a…sword" Sam finished.

"From the Citadel?" Dany asked with confusion. She knew the Maesters of Oldtown loved to gather knowledge and relics but…a sword was an odd item for an aspiring Maester to steal.

"From my family…it's been in House Tarly for generations; so, it would have been mine eventually. But my father had…other ideas" Sam continued.

This was the first time someone had mentioned Sam's family name to her, she had no idea he was a Tarly; a son of the man she burned alive, and brother to the son that stood beside him. Daenerys could see that in the way that Sam spoke of his father that their relationship was not a good one, she could see that much written on his face.

"Not Randyll Tarly?" Daenerys asked.

"You know him?" Sam asked nervously.

"Your family was sworn to House Tyrell, weren't they?" Daenerys asked.

"Aye, they are" Sam replied quickly.

"House Tyrell pledged their allegiance to me when I came here to Westeros. They sided with me against the Lannisters, who had murdered Lord Mace Tyrell, Queen Margery Tyrell and Ser Lorace Tyrell. Your Father chose to side with the Lannisters, and exterminated what was left of House Tyrell" Daenerys didn't want to mince words, she wanted Sam to understand exactly why she did what she did.

"But…my father…he was many things, but he was always a man of his word" Sam replied.

"Not anymore. He sided with the Lannisters until the end, I gave him multiple chances to keep his lands and titles, I even offered to have him join the Night's Watch, but he refused at every turn…I…I had him executed as a traitor" Daenerys finally explained; it was necessary what she did but it didn't make the look on Sam's face hurt any less.

"…At least I'll be able to go home again, now my Brother is the Lord" Sam was torn up, but he could understand why she did what she did.

"…Your…your brother stood with your father" Daenerys couldn't bear to see the hurt in Sam's eyes as he realized what that meant.

Sam could only hear so much; hearing that his father was dead had hurt, but hearing that his little brother, Dickon, who had always been so kind to him was now dead. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes as his throat began to clog up, he could feel himself ready to break down in tears and sobs, he was never good at hiding his emotions and he didn't want to look weaker than he already was in front of the Queen.

"T-Thank you…y-your Grace…for…for telling me. M-may I?" Sam muttered between sniffs.

"Of course, take as much time as you need" Daenerys said; resisting the urge to just wrap her arms around this big man and try her best to comfort him.

As Sam left the room; tears running down his eyes, she could only feel her heart clench in seeing the sight of a man whose family she had killed. She wouldn't change her mind that what she did was necessary; Randyll was a traitor that defied her in front of hundreds with no remorse for what he had done. He called her a foreign invader to her face with no respect in the slightest; he was a hateful man, that much she could see from how Sam reacted to news of his death.

She couldn't start questioning herself; she was a Queen that had to be strong, she didn't have the luxury of doubting herself like regular people did. She was symbol, a figurehead, if she didn't show strength and confidence in her actions, then what reason did she give for others to follow her?

'_If I look back, I am lost'_

Jorah put a hand on her shoulder when he realized the mournful look that she was giving the door that Sam had left through. Her faithful Bear Knight could read her like a book sometimes, and he could definitely see the questions and doubts running through her mind at the moment.

"Don't hurt yourself over this…He'll come to understand, I'm sure of it" Jorah whispered to her.

"I…I did what I needed to do" Dany replied; reaching up and wiping the tears from her eyes before they had a chance to even fall.

'_Did I?'_ she asked herself. Ghost whimpered and licked her hand when he could feel her distress; Dany scratched the massive Direwolf behind his ears as he tried to comfort her.

* * *

It was funny how on the edge of the end times, Jon Snow found himself in one of the best moods he had ever been in. How could he not? When he proposed to Daenerys she had said yes! She wanted to spend her life with him in the same way he wanted to spend his life with her.

As he walked through the halls of Winterfell, he could feel a spring in his step, he couldn't wait to tell Sansa and Arya.

He wanted Dany with him when he told them, he had already decided that; he was beyond caring about their image, he loved her and she loved him, that's all that mattered now; at the end of the world. He wanted to face the hordes of the dead with no regrets; nothing holding him back from doing his duty.

And he wanted Dany by his side as he did.

Just as came around a corner; he found himself colliding with someone who was obviously in a hurry to either get somewhere or get away from somewhere. Jon steadied himself and half expected a Stark Guard or even Maester Wolkan on his way to the rookery. Instead he found himself face to face with a man he had not seen in a long time; in another life.

"Sam?" Jon questioned as he met eyes with his best friend.

"Jon…Oh, I'm sorry that…" Sam began but was cut off when Jon wrapped his arms around Sam in a warm and brotherly hug. It was an embrace like this that Sam needed more than anything right now.

"Where in Seven Hells have you been?" Jon smiled as he was overwhelmed with the emotion of seeing his former Brother in arms again.

"Just…trying to stay out of the way" Sam replied; not wanting to break the embrace just yet, he didn't want Jon to see the state he was in; red eyed and cheeks wet with tears. Sam had hoped Jon would simply think it was just him being overly emotional at seeing his former brother again.

When the embrace broke, Jon had a look of pure joy on his face; perhaps the exact opposite of what Sam was feeling. After a few seconds of scanning the Tarly's face, Jon could see something was wrong; he knew Sam well enough to tell when something was troubling him.

"Sam…are you alright? Has something happened? Gilly? Little Sam?" Jon asked, almost immediately worrying something had happened to them, Sam shook his head before asking.

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?" Jon asked, confused.

"Can we talk somewhere private?" Sam asked in a hushed tone.

"Of course" Jon replied as he led Sam to his chambers which weren't far off. There was still some daylight so he would still have time to tell Sansa and Arya.

Once settled within Jon's chambers; sat in front of the fire, Sam had told Jon of everything; the death of his father and brother, the way the Queen spoke to him and all the while Jon sat there with a neutral expression as his friend retold him the fate of his male family members. Once Sam had finished; barely able to keep the tears from flowing down his face, Jon simply looked at the fire; breaking eye contact with Sam.

"I'm sorry Sam. But it was war" Jon broke his silence.

"Would you have done it?" Sam asked. Jon didn't break his gaze from the fire as Sam asked him.

"You know I've executed men Sam; you saw me take Slynt's head" Jon replied calmly.

"You've also spared men, Thousands of Wildlings when they refused to kneel"

"She's spared men too, Ser Jorah betrayed her, Tyrion's family slaughtered hers, she could have had me burned alive when she first met me…she would have been within her rights to have all three of us killed, but she didn't. Now Ser Jorah is her most trusted knight, Tyrion is her Hand and we are allies now" Jon replied not breaking his gaze from the fire.

"She could have burned the Red Keep and everyone in it to the ground the day she set foot in Westeros; but she didn't. She cares about people Sam; I know she does…" Jon clasped his hands in front of him; still looking at the fire.

"…I know you loved your brother. From what you told me, he was a good man; and I'm sorry that he is dead. But the men I executed had families too, that doesn't absolve them of treachery and deceit. Your father and your brother were traitors, and the price for treachery is death you know it is" Jon explained as calmly as he could; the fire reflecting in his eyes.

"But Jon, you…burned by dragon fire, a death like that isn't just. She's not what you think she is, she's a…"

"You are my friend Sam, my best friend. I love you like a brother, but I swear if you finish that sentence you way you were going to you will regret it" Jon borderline growled.

"…Jon…What…" Sam began to stammer until Jon turned his gaze towards him. Sam knew Jon could look fierce when he wanted to; but the look he gave Sam was a look he had never seen before. The fire was no longer reflected in his eyes, because the fire was inside his eyes.

"You don't know how hard it is Sam. Being a Leader; you will always make decisions others see as wrong, or stupid or at worst, evil. When you left Castle Black everything went to hell, Thorne, Yarwick, the high-ranking brothers…they betrayed me. They cornered me in the courtyard and drove their knives into my chest; called me traitor and left me to die out in the snow…" Jon's look was stern and hard like Valyrian steel.

"The Red Woman that followed Stannis brought me back…and I had them hanged, all the brothers that betrayed me. I hanged them myself and I watched them suffocate and die in agony" Jon continued.

"But Jon, you've never…"

"Ollie was one of them. He was the one that finished me off, even after I came back, he looked at me with such hate, that given the chance he would have done it again. I hanged him beside Thorne and watched the life leave his eyes" Jon said with a barely contained mixture of hatred and grief.

"I'm not proud of what I did. But I would do it again…so before you even dare to call her a monster, remember what I've done, and ask yourself, do you think me a monster, Sam?" Jon asked with a hurt tone.

"…You love her?" Sam asked; he knew that look. Every time that Daenerys was brought up, Jon would have that look in his eyes, the same look Sam knew he had whenever Gilly was brought up in conversation. Sam would hurt; he would kill and he would die to protect Gilly, and he could see that Jon felt the same with Daenerys.

"She's a good person Sam. I know she is; I've seen her true self, that's why I bent the knee to her" Jon said before standing up and retrieving his cloak.

"But Jon, you are a King…you can't just…" Sam tried to say before Jon went to the door.

"I've heard enough Sam. I'm sorry you lost your brother, I truly am, I know how it feels to lose a brother. But War is terrible, as is power, and people like Daenerys and I have to make hard decisions if we want to remain in charge. If I could bring Dickon back I would, but I will not betray Daenerys because she killed a traitor that shared blood with you…" Jon went to the door; but just before he opened it, he took a deep breath and looked back at Sam.

"It's good to see you again Sam. And I mean it, I am sorry. Just…give her a chance to show you who she is" Jon gave Sam a sad smile.

Jon left his chambers; leaving Sam behind. He had to put such thoughts out of his head, now was a time he should be sharing happiness about his betrothed with his sisters. His next move was simple, he wanted find Sansa and Arya and gather them where they could be alone, then he and Dany could tell them the good news.

Sam was seconds away from letting the truth spill when Jon left the room. A few seconds more and he would have told Jon who his true mother and father were; what his true identity was, his real birth right to the seat of power that Aegon the Conqueror forged from the swords of his fallen enemies.

But when Sam saw how passionately Jon defended Daenerys; when Sam saw the love burning in his eyes, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear to tell Jon the truth, to see his friend torn to pieces.

But it had to be done…sooner rather than later, Sam thought as he went about his way to find Bran.

* * *

The cold wind howled through the halls of Winterfell as men worked around the clock; going about their tasks, Unsullied and Northmen fixing Dragonglass heads to their spears, coating the edges of their shields in Dragonglass. Dothraki Screamers hauling logs by their horses for the Northern forces to use in the building of fortifications.

Women and children would fletch arrows and sharpen broken branches into spikes to be thrown into the trenches being dug outside the walls. Trebuchets and Catapults were being constructed within the walls for the best use during the battle itself.

Needless to say, everyone was working around the clock to prepare Winterfell for the coming battle. Many of the Northerners were already cooking up half-baked stories as to how their former King could possibly fly on the back of the Queen's second dragon.

Rumours, stories and folk tales spread quickly these days.

But such thoughts were the last things on the minds of Queen Daenerys Targaryen and the soon to be King Consort Jon Snow. Both of them walked through the halls of Winterfell, Ghost following them close behind. Jon had to admit; it was heart-warming how much of a shine Ghost had taken to Dany, at the very least one loved one of his here in Winterfell had.

"Are you sure they will be fine with this? Arya seems to like me fine, but Sansa?" Daenerys asked nervously.

Jon stopped Daenerys halfway through the hall by holding her arms in his, slowly backing her up into a wall; Jon leaned in and whispered to his love in the most intimate of ways.

"Don't worry about it. I love you, and you love me…Arya and Sansa are my sisters they deserve to know before everyone else. And if I know my sisters, which I do, they will accept you when they see how much you mean to me" Jon whispered to Daenerys as he brushed a finger down one of her flowing silver locks.

"Alright…I trust you" Dany smiled as she quickly nuzzled Jon's face.

"Good…now come on, it's good news we are giving them" Jon smiled before taking Dany's hand as they approached the library, where Jon had asked his sisters to meet him.

When they opened the door and stepped in however, they saw two others whom were not asked to be present. A boy wrapped in furs in a wheelchair and a very rotund man in black, both sitting across a table from Arya and Sansa.

Samwell Tarly

And Brandon Stark

Jon didn't want to ask Bran to attend, why would the all-seeing Three Eyed Raven need to be present? That and Jon wanted this moment to be happy, and Bran from what he had seen…didn't have the capacity to be happy anymore.

"Bran? Sam? What are you doing here?" Jon asked as he and Daenerys approached.

"Apparently they have something to tell you" Arya replied; leaning back in her chair.

Sam gave an awkward glance to Bran when he noticed the presence of Daenerys; her being here would not make things any easier, Sansa and Arya would complicate things more than if they told Jon alone. But Bran suggested that his sisters be present; for why he didn't know, perhaps to help comfort Jon, so Jon wouldn't have to go through the pain of explaining it himself.

"Perhaps it's best if her grace would allow us a few moment's alone?" Sam asked nervously.

"Whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of her" Jon said as he offered Daenerys a seat, the gesture wasn't lost on anyone present. Arya had figured out their relationship from the moment she saw them ride into Winterfell together; she had gotten very good at reading people after all.

Sansa already knew how Jon felt for Daenerys; he had made his feelings abundantly clear every time he defended her with that new fire of his. The red headed Stark was no longer as suspicious of Daenerys as she was, but she still didn't fully trust her yet; trust wasn't something easily given after a life like Sansa's.

Bran was…well Bran, he already knew everything about Jon and Daenerys' relationship.

Sam was the most nervous however, he could see how much Jon cared for Daenerys from their earlier conversation; Jon was never good at keeping secrets. What he and Bran had to tell them could ruin what they had; it could ruin Jon in ways he hadn't thought of.

But the truth had been hidden for too long.

"So, what was it you wanted to tell us?" Jon asked as he sat down beside his Queen.

"Well…um…you see Jon…it's…oh…how to put this into words?" Sam stuttered nervously.

"We know who your mother was" Bran interrupted Sam's ramblings.

"What?" Jon asked as his eyes widened like dinner plates. He instantly perked up to attention; as did Daenerys. She knew that Jon always wanted to know whom his mother was, if she were still alive, if she knew about him. It was one of the few things he ever said he truly wanted, besides her of course.

"You know who Jon's mother is?" Arya asked, equally as invested. Out of all the Stark children, Arya and Jon shared a connection all the others simply didn't have.

"Wait…you…you said you knew who she was…not who she is" Sansa noticed the wording Bran used. The crippled boy was very deliberate with his wording these days, and the detail wasn't missed on the Lady of Winterfell.

"You mean she is…Bran…is she?" Jon began with a tremble in his voice.

"Dead? Yes" Bran stated heartlessly as he often did these days.

Dany reached out and took Jon's hand in hers; rubbing her thumb across his hand affectionately to offer some semblance of comfort from the sudden news. Jon never knew his mother, he always wanted to though, and hearing that she was dead was a blow nonetheless.

"We also know who your father was" Bran stated again without a hint of emotion.

"My…my father? My father was Ned Stark, Bran, what are you saying?" Jon asked with confusion mixing into his grief.

"No, he wasn't Jon. You have been fed a lie your entire life" Bran continued. The emotionless way he was saying it was not helping in the slightest, Sam knew he had to start explaining or else Bran would drive Jon into a rage.

"What Bran is trying to say is…Lord Eddard, kept your true parentage a secret…to protect you" Sam continued.

"What are you both talking about? Just come out with it!" Arya almost growled, hating how Jon seemed to be getting more grief stricken with every second; they should have handled whatever this secret was like an arrow lodged in the leg.

Just pull it out and be done with it.

"Your mother, was Lyanna Stark" Sam let the secret spill.

"Aunt Lyanna? But…father would…he would never, but…who would Jon's father be?" Sansa demanded; leaning forward and placing her arms on the table.

"Lyanna Stark…the woman that…my brother Rhaegar…kidnapped and…" Dany began and stopped to look up at Jon's face. They both knew the story of how Rhaegar has kidnapped Lyanna, that was the event that started the rebellion that nearly wiped out House Targaryen.

Jon and Dany could both see the swirling of emotions behind the other's eyes. They weren't idiots; they were putting everything together they heard it, everything beginning to fit together. Why Rhaegal and Drogon seemed to accept Jon, the connection the two of them shared.

Dany and Jon looked to Sam with pleading eyes; Jon had to know and Dany needed her beloved to get some closure. If only they knew. When Sam looked at the way Dany was holding Jon's hand, he knew this was a mistake, he should have never brought Bran here. Sam could tell that Jon and Dany had put the pieces together, but they needed to hear it; if they heard it, then it would become real.

But what had been set in motion could not be stopped. The secret had to be told.

The avalanche had started, there was no longer any time for the pebbles to vote.

"Rhaegar didn't kidnap Lyanna; and he didn't rape her. He loved her; and she loved him. But she was promised to another…so they got married in secret. When Rhaegar fell on the trident, Lyanna had a son…a son she left to her brother, Ned Stark. He swore to his dying sister that he would protect her child no matter the cost…and he raised that boy as his own bastard…" Sam explained, letting each and every word sink in.

"Your name, Jon. Your real name…is Jaehaerys Targaryen" Sam finished nervously as Jon stared wide eyed at his best friend.

In a different circumstance, Dany would have been overjoyed at this, she wasn't alone anymore; there was another Targaryen in the world, another that shared her blood and her name. The man that had won her heart was a Targaryen; the blood of the dragon just like her. not a madman like her father or her brother Viserys, but a kind and just man of honour like her eldest brother Rhaegar.

Rhaegar…Jon's father.

But the look of pain etched across Jon's face was plain for all to see. Joy was the last thing going through his mind right now, everything he had suffered throughout his life, was done in the name of a lie. He was never a Bastard, never a stain on Eddard Stark's name and honour, he wasn't even Eddard's son. Robb, Bran and Rickon were not his brothers, Sansa and Arya were not his sisters, the hatred and resentment he had faced from Lady Catlyn and so many of the others in the North had been committed because of a lie.

He wasn't a Snow, he never was, he wasn't even a Stark.

He was a Targaryen, a Targaryen prince.

The Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms.

All his life he wanted to be more than what he was, to be accepted by his peers. But right now, he found himself the heir to the most valued seat of power in the world, a King by all rights, and he would have given it all back to be the Bastard he had been a mere few minutes ago. He felt his entire world shatter; all of the things he had been trained to believe, the way he had been conditioned to at by those around him.

It was all a lie.

"That can't be true!" Jon's voice trembled as glared at Bran; the emotionless and blank expression doing nothing to calm the nerves or the raging inferno being stoked within Jon.

"It is true, Jon" Bran replied coldly.

"How!? How could you know this?!" Jon demanded as the fire began to burn.

"Bran saw it in one of his visions. And I read it in a High Septim's diary…the High Septim that annulled Rhaegar's marriage to Elia and married him to Lyanna. It's true Jon" Sam went to put a hand on Jon's shoulder but his hand was quickly batted away by the Dragonwolf.

"It can't be! My father…he was the most honourable man I ever knew…WHY!? Why would he…why would he lie?!" Jon's voice trembled and broke when he lashed out in anger. Dany almost leapt out of her seat to be closer to Jon's side, her hands wrapping around him arm to try and comfort him.

"Jon, please…calm down" she pleaded as Ghost whimpered for his master.

"Why would father lie about this?" Sansa asked as calmly as she could.

"Robert loved your mother, Jon. But he despised Rhaegar…you were proof that Lyanna didn't love him back…he would have killed you like he had the other Targaryens killed" Sam replied.

"My…My…my father lied to me…my…my whole life" Tears began to cloud Jon's vision as his hands began to tremble. The Strong Northern King that Daenerys had known began to shrink and turn into a frightened little boy as the tears began to fall and his knees began to buckle.

"Jon…My love, look at me, look at me" Dany pleaded as she cupped Jon's face in her hands. The tough exterior of the Dragon Queen faded away when she saw the pain and confusion in her love's eyes.

She didn't care who else was present or what they thought at that moment, Jon needed her.

Jon realized what this meant for him and Dany; it made things so much more complicated. They were Blood; she was his aunt and he was her Nephew; her brother was his father. He had a greater claim to her throne than she did and that could prove to be dangerous if the wrong people knew. He could see the look of love and affection in her eyes when she held his face in her hands, he could feel the love radiating from her.

He was feeling too much, he felt the Inferno inside him turn into a hurricane of emotions, Sadness that both his true parents had been long dead, grief at the death and betrayal of the great man he thought to be his father, regret for all the things he had denied himself because he was a bastard, fear in what this meant for the future, fear his sisters wouldn't love him anymore, and worst of all. Dread…dread that Dany and he would be torn apart by the Truth, whether it be by their own hands or the hands of those around them.

"Dany…I…I…I need to be alone" Jon brushed Dany's hands away from him and bolted out of the room as if it were on fire. The words were meant to discourage her, but Dany heard the pain they carried, Jon was hurting badly in a way she had never thought possible.

Dany stood there, Ghost at her side as she stared at the door Jon had left out of. Her shallow breathing and Ghost's quiet whimpers were the only sounds audible. Dany could feel tears begin to well in her eyes as she realized the pain her love was feeling…and he was not the only one in pain.

Dany fell to her knees and Ghost immediately went to her side, nuzzling her with his large white furred head. The tears began to flow as the Dragon Queen's armour completely evaporated with the pain she and her love were sharing. This should have been a happy occasion, where she and Jon would tell Arya and Sansa of their commitment to one another.

Instead, Bran and Sam had torn them apart.

Dany wrapped her arms around Ghost as he whimpered for her; she had blanked out the others there in the room with her. Arya was on her feet quickly and put a comforting hand on Dany's shoulder. Arya didn't know what to make of Daenerys and her feelings for Jon until this moment; her Faceless man training had left her able to read people as easily as books, and she could tell right there that what Dany and Jon had was real.

Daenerys truly loved her brother. And the truth was hurting them both worse than it was hurting her.

Arya didn't care that Jon wasn't her father's son, Jon would always be her brother, blood tied or not. If him being a Bastard never lessened her opinion of him, then neither would his identity as a Trueborn Targaryen Prince.

"If this is true…Jon has a claim to the Iron Throne. A better one than her" Sansa said, eyeing Daenerys as she cried against Ghost's fur. That immediately gained Arya's attention, and her fury.

"Is that all you can think about!? The bloody Throne!?" Arya almost growled at her sister.

"Jon is the rightful heir Arya…he is a threat to her claim…"

"He is our brother! And she loves him…look at her! Does she look angry to you?!" Arya gestured to the crying Targaryen kneeling besides Ghost. Arya could feel her heart break at the sight of it, of seeing her brother in tears and the woman he loved equally hurt.

"We…we…we were going to tell you tonight" Daenerys' voice trembled.

"Tell us what?" Arya asked softly.

"…We were going to get married" Dany squeezed her eyes shut as Ghost nuzzled her midsection as he often did these days.

Arya could feel nought but sympathy for Dany in this moment; her words and her expression spoke not only of pain and suffering, but of love for Jon. Arya rubbed a hand along Dany's shoulder and knelt down beside her.

"Go to him…he needs you and you need him" Arya whispered; Dany looked up, confused to see the soft smile on Arya's face "Go" she whispered. Dany wiped her tears away and slowly stood, both Ghost and Arya supporting her as she regained her footing and made her way out of the room.

Arya watched Dany leave with Ghost on her heels; this was something the two of them needed to work out together. It wasn't her place to get involved, Jon and Daenerys needed their space.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? Leaving them alone together?" Sansa asked. The look Arya gave her was something most soldiers saw on their opponents mere moments before death.

"Sansa…I swear, if you keep acting like this, I will blacken your eye" Arya threatened. Jon was hurting, as was the woman he loved, and all Sansa could think about was the politics, about Thrones and titles and other things Arya couldn't give less of a shit about.

All Arya could care about was her pack; she was a Wolf through and through. Jon had always been apart of her pack; ever since the beginning, and anyone that loved Jon as much as her, Dany included, was a welcome addition to that pack. As far as Arya was concerned, Daenerys Targaryen was an honorary member of her pack.

And Arya would not allow her pack to fight amongst themselves.

* * *

Everything was spinning, everything was a lie, everything was false. His entire life had been built upon a lie, so many people had died for a lie, so many lives ruined because of the lie that kept him hidden. The lie that Robert had built his rebellion upon, the lie that led to the deaths of both his grandfathers, his uncle Brandon, his father Rhaegar, his mother Lyanna, his half-siblings he had never known.

The life that had been stolen from him.

The identity that had been stolen from him, because his parents chose love over duty.

'_love is the death of duty'_ Aemon's words echoed in his mind.

His great Uncle Aemon…his blood the entire time.

Jon had collapsed onto his bed, his hands trembled as he hid his face in them; his legs too weak to stand as he sat on the side of his bed. The fire doing nothing to ease the hurricane of emotions welling inside him. His entire identity, the armour of being a bastard that Tyrion convinced him to forge for himself had become an Iron Maiden. He was slowly being suffocated, choked by the lie Eddard had weened him on his entire life.

It had all been for nothing, every sneer and curse thrown his way; every hatefully glance that told him that he didn't belong had been built upon falsehoods. His own father…no…uncle…had sent him to the Wall, to be surrounded by murderers and rapists and scum for the rest of his life when in reality he had been the last true son of a dynasty.

A dynasty that he himself had helped bring down…because of a lie.

Eddard had a hand in killing what little family Jon had in the world, Rhaegar, Aegon, Rhaenys, all dead when they deserved to live. The man who was his true father was dead before he had even taken his first breath, an honourable man that loved the wrong woman and whose name had been slandered and butchered with time.

History repeated itself with Rhaegar and Eddard. Both good men, their memories butchered without Jon being there.

And Dany.

Dany had grown up without a family because of the lie; she had been sold like cattle because of a lie, raped and abused because of a lie. Forced to grow up without a childhood, fearing for her life at every moment, surrounded by enemies and a brother that had went mad like their father.

She had been as alone as Jon had been.

'_A Targaryen, alone in the world…is a terrible thing'_

"Jon" his old name, his fake name called out by the woman he loved with all his heart. He looked up at the doorway to see Daenerys standing there, red eyed with tears and knees shaking wearily. Ghost at her side protectively.

"…Dany" Jon's voice trembled as more tears threatened to spill.

Dany quickly shut the door behind her and within an instant found herself at her lover's side, cradling his head against her chest as they both let the tears flow freely. Ghost sat nearby and watched; feeling the pain his master and his mate were going through right now.

"I'm here my love…I'm here" Dany whispered as the tears flowed freely down their faces.

"He lied…he lied to me all my life" Jon sobbed.

"He did it to protect you, like any good father would" Dany whispered as her hand rubbed his back.

"He was the most honourable man I knew. I wanted to be like him, I wanted to be him, but he lied to me" Jon whispered as he cried.

"You were more valuable to him than Honour, Jon. You were his blood…as you are mine" Dany softly kissed his head. Jon rose his head and looked at Dany in the eyes; there was still the question of what they were to each other now. She was his blood, but she was also his love, they had not been raised together but she felt closer to him than anyone else in his life.

"We are kin, Dany. You are my Aunt…it…it isn't…I don't know what…" Jon's voice trembled as all his confidence and self-surety had vanished.

"We are Targaryens Jon…the last Targaryens, and we do not answer to gods nor men. Like our dragons, we are free. I love you, with all of my heart and I know you still love me" Dany cradled his face in her soft hands.

He did, he still loved her; no words in all of Westeros could change that simple fact. He loved her still, even knowing they were blood. He could see the love in her eyes, it was as strong now as it was the moment at the Waterfall when he asked her to marry him. That love was a flame comprised of Dragonfire; a flame not easily extinguished.

"It…it doesn't…bother you?" Jon asked.

"I'm not alone anymore. All my life, I wanted home…and you are that home I never had. You and I are meant to be Jon. Blood of my Blood" Dany smiled and put her forehead against his.

Jon's hands reached up and cupped Dany's face softly, mirroring how she held him. She was right; they were like two halves of a puzzle, never complete, never truly whole until they met each other. Targaryens were not meant to be alone; he had never had another Targaryen in his life and Dany had only known a cruel and abusive brother that used her for his own gain. Yet against all odds, after all the wars and pain and suffering they had endured; they had been brought together.

They were whole, as they were meant to be.

"You swore to me once…that no matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, that you would never leave me. Tonight I make you the same vow…no matter what happens; no matter what anyone thinks of us; no matter what wars await, no matter what the Night King brings, no matter how many gods curse us…I will never leave you my love" Dany cried as their tears mingled together.

Jon could only cry as he buried his face in the crook of Dany's neck; letting her hands find their place on his back and the back of his head. Daenerys embraced her family as tenderly as she could; stroking his raven curls in her hand as he let it all out. No matter what came next, they would face it together.

"I'm here Jon…I'll always be here" Dany nuzzled her lover.

"That's not my name" Jon sobbed into Dany's neck; her sweet aroma bringing him some shred of comfort.

"Jaehaerys…is that what you want me to call you?" Dany whispered to him.

"…It's what my real name is" Jon sobbed; the name feeling foreign and alien to him.

"…but Jon is the name of the man I fell in love with. You will always be my sweet, honourable Northern fool. My Jon, my Dragonwolf" she whispered lovingly. Jon let out a small chuckle at the 'Northern fool' bit, her love was a bright light in a dark room.

It would take time to accept who he really was, to discover who Jaehaerys Targaryen was. Who would he be now he knew the truth? Jon Snow? Jon Stark? Jaehaerys Targaryen? Jon Targaryen? He didn't know what the future brought or if his identity mattered in this time and place with the army of the dead slowly approaching. Whether he or his Queen would take the Throne, would they take it together? Did the Throne even matter anymore?

No.

All that mattered was him and Dany.

They would face whatever the world had planned for them; whatever challenges the Gods would throw at them the only way they knew how.

Together.

* * *

**WHOA that was tough to write. You have no idea how tricky it is writing emotional stuff like that, WOOOOWEEEEE! **

**And before you guys say it, THIS WON'T BE THE END OF THE FEELS CONCERNING JON'S PARENTAGE. Yes, Dany and Jon seem happy, but look at her comforting words like a bandage, it's a temporary fix, Jon will still have his doubts and his fears and so will Dany. **

**AND NO, the little outburst from Sansa does not mean this will turn into a Sansa hate fic (Unlike D&D I don't pic favourites) I liked Sansa in seasons 1-7, her character made sense back then, and it does make sense that some as politically minded as her would immediately grasp the political Implications more so than Jon, Dany and Arya who were way more emotionally invested in what is going on. **

**The Subject of Jon's parentage is far from solved. **

**Not to mention there will be a few new arrivals in Winterfell next chapter, those whose insight will be vitally needed for the battles and trials ahead. **

**Please as always let me know what you guys thought, I worked my arse off this chapter so a nice little bit of feedback would help a LOT. That and the feedback helps me write OH SO MUCH! Please keep the support, the PM's and the reviews coming. **

**This is Dakkaman777 saying, see you guys next chapter!**


	7. Re-Joining the Pack

**Here we go everybody, another chapter and my oh my has this turned into a Journey, I never expected this much feedback for my little stab at cheering myself up. Honestly you guys and your support have given me the drive to keep writing and I thank each and every one of you for it. **

**I mean…almost 200 reviews…370 follows and 307 favourites….all over a course of a Month…wow…this is turning out well for me XD **

**Please as always, enjoy, I know I enjoyed writing this lads and lasses. **

**Chapter 7: Re-joining the Pack**

"And then, Daenerys Stormborn freed all of the Unsullied from the tyrannical grip of the slavers of Astapor; and went upon her journey to free the other enslaved peoples of Essos" Missandei had the room full of children enthralled.

Missandei of Naath found herself in a small gathering area; full of Northern and Free Folk children; it was obvious which were which as the Free Folk children wore smaller versions of white and grey furred Parkas that the adults seemed to wear all the time. Sitting nearby to her were the same two orphans she had befriended, Uma and Jory, wearing looks of awe on their faces as Missandei told them the tales of what had led up to Daenerys arriving in the North.

"What is a slave?" one of the free folk girls asked with a raised hand.

"It's like a servant isn't it?" one of the Northern boys replied.

"What's a servant?" another one of the Free Folk children asked.

"Someone who does what you tell them" another Northern child replied.

"That sounds stupid" a Free Folk Child replied.

Missandei giggled to herself at the sight of the Free Folk children showing no understanding of taking orders; as if slavery and even being a servant were these mythical concepts, then again, they were called the Free Folk for a reason. Missandei may have seen the Free Folk as being a bit brash and unrefined, but she had to admit she admired how free they were with how they acted.

"Slaves are people who are forced to do things against their will. If they don't do what their masters tell them to do, they could be hurt, or worse. Slaves can be very sad sometimes, it's not a good life at all" Missandei explained as best as she could so the children would understand her.

"Were you a slave?" Uma asked.

"I was…my masters were very cruel men. They treated myself, the Unsullied and many slaves very badly. They would do terrible things to us if we disobeyed or didn't do our jobs well enough" Missandei replied.

"But Queen Daenerys saved you" Jory replied.

"She did…she saved all of us" she smiled back at the little boy.

"But…aren't you her slaves now? You do what she tells you to do" one of the Free Folk children spoke up.

"No, we aren't, the Unsullied, myself and the other slaves follow her because we want to. Because we believe in her, we follow her because we want to" Missandei smiled.

"Like how the Free Folk follow Jon Snow?" one of the Free Folk children asked with excitement.

"Yes, just like that" Missandei smiled.

"My Da says that Jon Snow is a short arse, but he is better than most southern twats" another Free Folk child replied.

"What's a Twat?" a younger Northern child asked.

Missandei couldn't help but try to restrain her laughter as she tried to bring some order to the gaggle of Northern children as they began jeering and asking rude questions about the meaning of curse words. It was certainly a step up from translating lies from Inhuman Slave traders, that much was for sure.

Grey Worm watched nearby, at the smiting tables where Unsullied fixed dragonglass spears together, Northern soldiers retrieved Dragonglass axes, daggers and swords. Gendry worked on forging more weapons nearby and the one known as the Hound was fixing himself up with some new armour.

"She's a fine woman" Sandor said as he latched a Vambrace onto his right arm. He had discarded his old worn out leather gambeson and had switched it out with a chainmail vest, leather sleeveless jacket and a pair of steel vambraces which he was currently equipping.

"Missandei is very good woman" Grey Worm replied quickly.

"Shame she is wasted on a man with nought down below" Sandor looked at Grey Worm.

"I would rather have nothing down there, than a face like burnt meat" Grey Worm replied; glaring at Sandor.

The men nearby went quiet as Sandor and Grey Worm glared at each other; it was no doubt that these two were two of the best fighters in Winterfell right now. If a fight broke out, there was no telling what the hell would happen. Sandor had brute force and raw skill, while Grey Worm had speed, precision and discipline.

"I make joke" Grey Worm grinned and the men in close proximity began to snicker loudly. Even Sandor grinned and pat the Unsullied on the back.

"You may not have anything down there…but you have big balls lad" Sandor smiled before going back to latch on his second vambrace.

Grey Worm, Sandor, Gendry and the other assembled men continued about their tasks; Sandor fixing his armour on, Grey Worm fixing spearheads to their shafts, and Gendry continuing to forge Dragonglass weapons as best and as quickly as he could. Grey Worm looked to the Burnt man; and a question filled his head, and the curiosity that had made him human and not Unsullied couldn't be held back.

"Why are you here, Ser Clegane?" Grey Worm asked as he went back to fixing a Dragonglass spearhead onto a shaft.

"I'm not a Knight…and what the fuck do you mean?" Sandor asked as he continued to tie his vambrace on.

"I fight for my Queen…Unsullied fight for Queen. Northerners fight for Jon Snow, Gendry fight…what does Gendry fight for?" Grey Worm asked with an arched brow as he looked at the Blacksmith.

"I think we all know what Waters fights for. Its short, has brown hair, grey eyes and has a death list as long as a Horse's cock" Sandor gave Gendry a knowing smile.

"Can you not talk about her in the same sentence as Horse cocks please?" Gendry asked.

"Why must Ser Clegane act…what is Westerosi word?" Grey Worm asked.

"Like an absolute Cunt?" Sandor answered.

"Yes…like that?" Grey Worm asked.

"If you had a face like mine, you would act like a Cunt too" Sandor finished lacing up his vambrace and put on a pair of brown leather, fingerless gloves.

"Scars don't make you a Cunt, Joffrey didn't have scars and he was the biggest cunt alive" Gendry replied with a smirk.

"Aye…a bigger cunt there never was" Sandor smiled.

"Masters of Astapor, Yunkai, Volantis and Meereen…they were…as you say, Absolute Cunts" Grey Worm replied to the laughter of Sandor and Gendry.

"I bet they were" Sandor chuckled as he sheathed a Dragonglass dagger at his belt.

"So…what does Ser Clegane fight for?" Grey Worm asked again.

Sandor stopped and sat there, his hands resting on his knees as he looked around him, seeing the children enthralled in another one of Missandei's stories of the Dragon Queen. Seeing Unsullied men preparing alongside Northern men, young and old from all the corners of the world. Sandor thought of what it was he fought for and at the end he could only think of one word. One word as he remembered his friends at the half-built sept.

'_It's never too late to stop robbing people, to stop killing people and start helping people'_

'_never too late to come back'_

"…Redemption"

* * *

Jon stood on the battlements; his hands leaning against the snow-covered walls of Winterfell. Already a few Ballistae were being set up, much like the ones that littered the Wall during their defence of castle black against Mance Rayder's wildling army. Watching the Unsullied and Northmen set up the multiple barriers, dig trenches and set up wooden pikes while the Dothraki hauled logs and felled trees back and forth was therapeutic.

It was strange; that in a moment like this, battle preparations were easing him. In a way it made sense; trying to concentrate on the coming threat let him know there were more important things to worry about.

But even then. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration as he gazed up into the clouds. Rhaegal and Drogon were probably soaring up high above the clouds; up there were everything else melted away. According to the Dothraki, last night the Dragons went mental; roaring and snarling at the skies, firing off into nearby hills in anger. Rhaegal for once acting more unhinged and aggressive than Drogon.

Thank the gods they didn't kill anyone. Rhaegal had nipped Drogon a few times though; but luckily the Black and red dragon could take a few bites from his smaller brother.

"Are you alright?" came the voice of the woman that calmed him last night. Dany was wearing her white fur coat again; the peppered snow lightly falling down around them.

"Aye…doing fine" Jon nodded as Dany stood close to him. She would have taken his arm in hers and lay her head against his shoulder if they didn't fear anyone seeing them.

Their relationship had become more complicated overnight; with the revelation of who and what Jon really was, all sorts of dilemmas had arisen. What would the people think? Would the Northerners want to follow Jon knowing he was the grandson of the Mad King? What would Tyrion and the other advisors do with this information? How could this effect their alliance? Had people already figured out?

"You don't look it. You never brood this much when you are fine" Dany said as she looked out on the battle preparations being carried out.

"I have a lot on my mind as you know" Jon replied softly "Thank you…for last night. I needed you there, even if I didn't say so"

"Thank Arya. She is the one who told me to go to you, before she did, I was just in as much a bad state as you were, sobbing on my knees in front of them, only Ghost there to comfort me" Dany sighed.

"I'm sorry, for leaving like I did"

"Don't apologize for that Jon. Your whole identity was just shattered, you needed me more than I needed you"

"You still needed me. I suppose it's a good thing Ghost has taken to you so much" Jon smiled at her; Dany smirked and moved to the side to show that the large white Direwolf was sitting right there besides her.

"Traitor" Jon smiled at Ghost as the Direwolf just tilted his head.

The two shared a quiet laugh before looking back out at the fields being covered with snow. Thoughts swirling through their heads; there was no doubt in the air about how they still felt for each other, yes, their blood relation was momentarily jarring, but they weren't just regular people. They were Targaryens, they answered to neither gods nor men, and the fire within Jon that he had been feeling more and more often was just that.

Targaryen fire.

"How are you holding up?" Dany asked.

"Still adjusting…it's funny, my entire life I felt like I only knew half of myself, the Stark side. But as it turns out I didn't even know half; I didn't know myself at all" Jon replied.

"I can't imagine how that feels" she stated.

"You are the only one of two Targaryens I've ever met. The only other was Maester Aemon; so far…I don't know what it means to be one. I know how Starks are, but…I feel like I've found out I'm a complete stranger to myself" Jon sighed.

"No two Targaryens are the same Jon. The same with Starks, Baratheons, people in general. Our Houses and our words don't define us…what are the words of House Targaryen?" Dany asked.

"Fire and Blood" Jon stated, there wasn't a person alive that didn't know the words of the former royal dynasty.

"If every Targaryen embodied those words, then I would have burned King's Landing to the ground the moment I set foot in Westeros; but I didn't. Our words can guide us or influence us…but they don't define us" Dany resisted the urge to grasp Jon's face and turn him to her, instead she grasped his arm to gain his attention.

"You don't have to change who you are. You are my Jon…that's all you have to be if that's what you want. But there is no denying, there is a King inside you" Dany said as she gazed into Jon's eyes sincerely.

"Just be who you feel…it's that simple" Dany smiled.

'_Let go rider'_ Jon felt the thought that echoed in his head from when he bonded with Rhaegal. It was still a tough pill to swallow, that he wasn't who had thought he was all his life. he hadn't been able to bring himself to make love to Dany last night, no matter how much he still loved her; he needed time, time to reflect, discover what he wanted, what he wanted to be.

And for that he needed space. Space that Dany was kind enough to give, along with support. They may not have made the beast with two backs last night, but she held him close and tenderly; sharing her warmth with him as best she could before he returned to his chambers.

Probably the first night since coming back to Winterfell he slept by himself. The cold was unpleasant, but so was the truth.

"I still need time, Dany. To think; to figure things out" Jon replied finally.

"Good…I would be afraid if you didn't. Just…when you have figured everything out…I'll be here" Dany gave him a sad smile before looking off into the fields again.

Their little moment of peace was interrupted by the sounds of marching drawing near; a bellowing horn sending all of the soldiers into high alert "RIDERS APPROACHING!" came a loud bellow from one of the Northerners stationed above. Dany and Jon looked over the battlements to see close to 500 men approaching, the banners signifying a Green…lizard? Dany thought.

"The Lion Lizard of House Reed…seems we just bolstered our forces a bit. Care to join me in greeting our guests, my Queen?" Jon asked with a smile.

"I would be honoured…my King" Dany whispered the last part in Jon's ear; smiling brightly when it flustered him.

Within minutes Jon and Dany were walking to the gates to greet those who had arrived; immediately about 30 Unsullied where standing to attention alongside 30 of Jon's most loyal Stark warriors. About 4 mounted figures pulled up into the gates; soldiers in leather and piece mail armour gathering to attention, all armed with longbows and spears, short-swords at their sides.

The first two hooded figures were not hooded, and Jon vaguely remembered the older of the two. Jon had met this man once before; a long, long time ago, it was Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch; one of his father's…Uncle's most loyal bannermen. The girl besides him must have been Meera Reed; from what Bran had told him, Jon owed this girl quite a debt for looking out for his younger brother.

"My King, My Queen" Howland bowed low and respectfully to both Jon and Daenerys after dismounting his horse.

Meera bowed alongside her father in respect to the two; Jon wasn't aware enough to notice he had been referred to as a King by the Northern Lord, Daenerys however did notice, and it wasn't in a disrespectful way to demean her title as Queen. No, Howland referred to them both with the respect owed to Monarchs, as if he knew something.

"Lord Howland…what are you doing here?" Jon asked.

"To fight in the war your grace. The only war that matters; and I believe you need all the men you can get" Howland smiled as he stood up and looked to Daenerys; giving her a quick once over before bending to one knee; Meera following by example.

"My Queen…House Reed and all 500 of our fighting men are at your service" Howland pledged from one knee.

"My Lord, that isn't necessary. Please stand" Dany smiled; Howland smiling back as he shakily stood up; Meera helping him up.

"And you are, My Lady?"

"Meera of House Reed" Meera replied quickly and dutifully. Daenerys observed the black leather armour Meera was wearing; designed for combat rather than lady-like pursuits.

"You plan on fighting with us, Lady Meera?" Dany asked.

"The Men can't defend Winterfell alone; I am just as capable with a bow and blade as any man" she replied.

'The North really is full of capable woman' Dany smiled to herself before nodding back to Meera.

"And who might you be, My Lords?" Jon asked the two hooded men who had dismounted.

However, all smiles and jovial feelings of new allies dissipated when the hoods were removed. And standing there in all their shabby glory, were the Kingslayer, Jamie Lannister, and Ser Bronn of the Blackwater.

With no Lannister army at their backs, and looks of apprehension and barely hidden fear in their eyes; both Jon and Dany knew that they had been betrayed. With a single order of "Dovaogēdys!" and "Guards!" the Unsullied and the Starks guards drew their weapons and stood to attention as their commanders glared at Ser Jamie in unison.

"Well…we're fucked" Bronn muttered behind gritted teeth.

* * *

The silence of the room was not something a man like Jamie Lannister was used to. It was unsettling to say the very least; with Bronn standing a few feet behind him and the room packed with men and women who would have wanted nothing more than to take his head at a moment's notice, Bronn was a good fighter but no one was that good.

If the Lord of Winterfell or the Dragon Queen wanted his head; there was nothing he could do to stop them. The entire room was filled with men that could slaughter him in an instant, Northern Veterans of the War of Five Kings, Unsullied, Dothraki Bloodriders and trained Knights of the Vale. He was fairly sure he even saw the Hound here earlier on; a man who even in his prime Jamie would have had trouble with.

The look that the Silver haired beauty was giving him however was on another level than the looks of hatred all the other lords and ladies were giving him. She looked every inch the Queen she claimed to be; not even needing her dragon to give off an aura of power and intimidation.

"When I was a little girl, my brother used to tell me stories. About the man who murdered our father…who stabbed him in the back, slit his throat and sat on the Iron Throne…watching him bleed onto the floor after swearing an oath to protect him. He used to tell me other stories, about all the things we would do to that man once we took back our home" Daenerys stated.

"…I did what I had to do" Jamie stated; he never once felt an ounce of shame for killing the Mad King when he did.

"I know you did. My brother was just as mad as our father in the end; he always lied about what a good and just king he was; that what you did was an act of betrayal…he failed to mention the madness that turned our father into a monster that had to be put down like a rabid dog" Daenerys continued with a nod.

Many heads turned to Daenerys at this; a few raised brows of surprise at this little statement. Lyanna Mormont in particular leaning forward with interest at what the Queen was saying; Jon had to suppress a smile of pride, seeing Dany let everyone know where she stood.

"Although this one good act does not excuse the lack of the armies your sister swore to send North. The forces loyal to your sister number somewhere in the 20,000's don't they?" Dany stated the elephant in the room.

"They do"

"Yet I don't see 20,000 men…I only see 2. A one-handed man, and his friend. It appears your sister lied to me…to all of us" Dany's eyes narrowed.

"She lied to me as well. She never had any intention of sending her armies North. She has Euron Greyjoy's fleet and 20,000 fresh troops from the Golden Company all bought and paid for. Even if we somehow defeat the dead, they will have more than enough to slaughter whoever stands in the aftermath" Jami explained.

"We?"

"I made a promise to fight for the living, I intend to keep that promise" Jamie replied.

Dany pondered the situation; eyeing Jamie carefully as she tried to make a decision about what action to take next. Tyrion always said Jamie was a good man, but he still made the mistake of trusting Cersei.

"Your Grace, I know my brother…" Tyrion cut in.

"Like you knew your sister?" Dany asked.

"…he knew the risks of coming here by himself; why would he come here if not for a good reason?" Tyrion asked.

"I'm sorry Lord Tyrion, but it has become apparent that when it comes to matters concerning your family you are no more fit to advise me than a beggar on the street. I value your counsel but when it comes to Lannisters I'll make up my own mind, thank you" Daenerys replied harshly.

Tyrion took that blow badly; he felt like he just got the wind knocked out of him. What made it hurt worse was that she was very much right; he suggested that they go North of the wall to convince Cersei and all it got them was a dead dragon and a crippled man. He had to help his brother; Jamie had risked his life for him time and time again, he couldn't just sit aside and wait for his Queen to execute him.

"You are right…we can't trust him. He attacked my father in the street, he tried to destroy my house and my family the same as yours" Sansa agreed with Dany.

"You want me to apologize for that? I won't, we were at war, everything I did; I did for my house and my family; I would do it all again" Jamie replied strongly.

"The Things we do for love" Bran said emotionlessly.

Jamie was taken aback by that little comment; he recognised the boy he had pushed from the top of the tower all those years ago. If Bran let that secret out, he was as good as dead; right now, he thanked the gods that people saw that as a rumour with no real evidence to back it up, but if Bran let it out…his head would be on a pike within minutes.

"If you are so loyal to your family and house, why have you abandoned them now?" Jon finally asked.

"Because this goes beyond Loyalty…this is about survival. I saw that thing you brought into the Dragonpit, and I know that if they aren't stopped then Houses and pledges of allegiance and all of that shite won't matter anymore" Jamie spoke frankly.

"Your grace, my brother is valuable in many ways. He has a great mind for military tactics that could be of great help in the coming war" Tyrion pleaded with Daenerys.

"Aye, at least he's got that going for him" Bronn muttered to himself.

"Excuse me, My Lord, but we haven't been introduced, just who are you? His Squire?" Dany asked the rough looking man stood behind Jamie.

"Beg your pardon your grace…but I would rather scrub out the fucking latrines than be caught dead squiring for him" Bronn smirked. A few chuckled emerged from the crowd at Bronn's bluntness, and even Daenerys had to supress a grin of amusement.

"Your grace, this is Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. I can personally vouch for his skill with a blade" Tyrion spoke up.

"As can I. He killed Ser Vardis Egan in single combat as I recall" Lord Royce chipped in; having been there when he felled the Vale Knight without a scratch on him.

"You bested a Vale Knight in single combat?" Dany raised a brow at this.

"Aye, I did your grace. If I hadn't then you probably wouldn't have a Hand right now" Bronn pointed at Tyrion.

"And why may I ask…are you here?" Daenerys asked.

"I'm here because their sister is…and I apologize in advance…a Crazy Cunt" Bronn replied with a smirk. Many of the Lords and Ladies once again let out quiet and quick chuckles and snickers at his bluntness.

"…I like this one" Dany afforded herself to smirk at that little jab at Cersei.

"And to be completely honest, I'm little more than a Sellsword that killed the right people. And I don't sell my sword to Queens that are round the fucking twist. You seem like you've got your head on straight, and I don't want to die poor. The Lannisters…or at least Tyrion here paid me well for my services, but they promised me Lordship, a wife and a castle and I have precisely none of those after all the blood I shed for them" Bronn explained.

"You want me to pay you, for your service?" Daenerys asked.

"Your grace, Ser Bronn is worth every penny" Tyrion said.

"Alright then…Ser Bronn of the Blackwater. We will see how much your service is worth when it comes to battle…if you do your job, I'll see you rewarded accordingly" Daenerys nodded; Bronn looked very pleased with himself that he wasn't going to be burned alive anytime soon.

"Though that still doesn't explain what to do with you" Daenerys eyed Jamie yet again, not having made her mind up yet.

"We should take his head! Send it back to his sister" Lord Glover demanded.

"Burn him, your grace! Fucker deserves it!" another Northern Lord demanded.

"Throttle him like he did my Uncle!" Lady Karstark called out.

"Never trust a Lannister! They'll stab you in the back the first chance they get!" Lord Cerwyn growled.

Tyrion seemed to shrink when the Northerners' unbridled hatred of Lannisters began to show itself. Many of the Northern Lords seemed to momentarily discard their distrust for Daenerys as they had found a common source of hatred. Jamie seemed to be getting less and less confident with every second that passed; soon the entire room filled with angry Northerners pointing and cursing down Jamie, curses of 'Kingslayer', 'Murderer', 'Sisterfucker' and 'Oathbreaker' filling the room.

"ENOUGH! LET THE QUEEN SPEAK!" Jon roared as he slammed his fist against the table. The Northern Lords all piped down when their former king made his will known.

Dany gave Jon a small smile; good to see the recent news hadn't caused his fire to go out.

"You don't have many friends up here Ser Jamie. And to be fair, as a man who is known for stabbing his king in the back…I'm afraid I wouldn't feel safe with you around, even if my father was a mad man" Daenerys said; waiting for Jamie to give her a reason to not have him executed on the spot.

"Your grace" Brienne stood up.

"Lady Brienne…you have something to say?" Daenerys asked. She didn't know Brienne very well, but from what Jon and Arya had told her, she was a good sort that could be trusted. And something about a woman of like Brienne, a strong woman that wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty resonated very well with Dany.

"You don't know me well your grace, but I know Ser Jamie. He is a man of honour. I was his captor once, during the war of five kings, but when we were both taken prisoner by the Boltons and some of their men tried to force themselves upon me he defended me…it cost him his hand" Brienne explained.

"Without him my Lady, you would still be a prisoner of the Boltons. He armed me, armoured me and sent me to find you and bring you home. Because he had sworn an oath to your mother to do so" Brienne explained.

"You vouch for him?" Sansa asked.

"I swear on my honour, you can trust him" Brienne swore, Jamie giving her looks as she explained to Sansa and Dany.

"Your grace…I trust Brienne with my life. If she trusts him, then we should as well" Sansa whispered to Daenerys.

Dany pondered the decision here; she was the Queen and her word would be the final one. But there was another opinion she had not yet asked for; the one opinion she valued above all others "Lord Snow…what do you say?"

"We need every man we can get. Even if they are a one-handed man and a Sellsword. Brienne is a woman of honour…if she says we can trust him…then I say we do as well" Jon replied.

"And if he goes back on his word?" Dany eyed Jamie.

"Then I'll kill him myself" Jon shot Jamie a look of his own.

Jamie's eyes widened at the ferocity in Jon's eyes; he had changed quite drastically since that day before he left for the Wall all those years ago. Back when Jamie had both hands and Jon was little more than another bastard being sent off to take the Black. Jamie had thought Daenerys' eyes were fiery, but Jon's were filled with that same fire with all the ferocity of a Direwolf.

"Very well. He can stay" Daenerys nodded to Grey Worm.

The Unsullied commander walked over to Jamie and shoved Widow's wail back into his chest, the one-handed man giving out a short 'oof' at the power behind the Unsullied. He could tell the Essosi, former slave didn't trust him, neither did many of the people present. But he was expecting this, if anything he was happy just to be alive.

Trust was earned, and Jamie Lannister had quite a bit to do to earn that trust.

* * *

"My King, please…we didn't know what was going on. Before we even knew what happened they were gone" the Iron Born cried on his knees.

"How many ships are there in the Iron Fleet?" Euron asked with his hands behind his back.

"1000 my King" another replied with a shaky voice.

"With at least 1 watchman for every ship…and not a single one of you noticed my Nephew going aboard my flagship to rescue my niece?" Euron asked with a dry tone as he leaned forward to gaze into the scared face of the nearest watchman.

Euron had gathered the 10 men who were on watch duty on the ships nearest the silence the night his Yara was rescued.

"We…we didn't mean to"

"Sshhhhhh, stop worrying. If I had every man who disappointed me gutted then I wouldn't have such a large fleet would I?" Euron stated with a small grin as he stood back up.

"No…an honest mistake, one that maybe one day look back and laugh upon…if your tongues grow back" Euron nodded to his crew as they descended on the watchmen and went to work.

The sounds of bloodcurdling screams filled the air as 10 new souls were added to the crew of the silence to replace those killed by Theon and the traitor Ironborn. Euron usually enjoyed watching his crew do what they did best; his bosun in particular was very good at stopping the bleeding once the tongues were cut.

But he had a plethora of things on his mind at the moment as he retreated to his cabin; two of the other Captains following him. A man of large statue and flowing black sea drenched hair, wearing segmented plates of armour under his coat, and the other a leaner man with a scar over his right eye and a bald head bearing a tattoo of a Leviathan swimming in the waves.

The larger man, Lord Aeron Blacktyde. A Reaver with a strong arm and command of 400 ships.

The bald man, Lord Erich Harlaw. A Ruthless captain who had always supported Euron's claim to the salt throne, he had earned Euron respect when he buried an axe in his own brother's head to claim lordship to the Ten Towers and its fleet of 450 ships.

Harlaw and Blacktyde; two of the most powerful Iron Island houses. These two were the closest things to generals Euron had, both selfish and ruthless men who had proven their salt on the seas and between them controlled a majority of the ships in the Iron Fleet. If they had the will to, they could have killed Euron and tried to take command of the Iron Fleet.

But both men knew Euron, he was a man of limitless ambition with nothing obscuring his way. No ties to blood or morality, no codes of conduct and no fear of any god, demon or dragon that wanted his life.

"I say you should have hanged those fucks from the mast, My King. Send a message to any other bastards that don't do their jobs" Aeron said as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.

"Silence speaks leagues, Aeron. A man without a tongue can speak more about my power than a corpse with a tongue ever could" Euron replied as he took off his coat and hung it up.

"Speaking of tongues, I wager you have some news for me Erich?" Euron asked as he began unbuckling his Ironborn breastplate.

"Most of the Westerland houses have turned against your Queen Cersei. House Crakehall, Lefford, Banefort, Marbrand and many others have all turned their backs on her and proclaim that she is no Queen of theirs" Erich explained; his voice rough like he had been drinking sand for the past few years.

"How many men?" Euron asked as he threw his breastplate on the ground.

"A strong enough host, their final number around 10,000. Though the Crakehall men seem to have went North; their force of 3000 men is mainly cavalry units, heavy mounted" Erich explained as he sat down nearby.

"Why haven't the other houses gone North?" Aeron asked.

"The 10,000 Westerlands forces are staying in the Westerlands to defend their houses should Cersei send armies against them for treason" Erich replied.

Euron's low chuckling was not something either Erich or Aeron had expected to hear; but then again it was hardly surprising considering the sort of man Euron was. The men and woman of the Westerlands were sworn to House Lannister, not House Greyjoy, it was no skin off his nose if they abandoned their hosts and joined the enemy.

"The stupid bitch. Killing those old lords certainly put the fighting spirit into the other houses…just not the sort of fighting spirit she wanted" Aeron spoke over Euron's chuckles.

"She is losing her mind day by day. But that's what happens when a weak-willed woman takes advice from sycophants. One thing I'll say, she isn't half back in the sack" Euron smiled as he went over to his armour locker and flung it open; revealing one of the few treasures he kept in his long career of raiding.

A full suit of Valyrian steel plate armour. The rippled patterns creating images of great beauty, this was a piece that Euron had found on one of his trips to the ruins of old Valyria, it had probably belonged to some long dead Dragonlord…but now it was his.

"A war unlike any other is coming…and when it does, it won't matter how many men control the land. Only the seas and skies count" Euron smiled as he reached up and picked out the crown of coral, he had been given to signify his station as King of the Iron Islands.

It was a great image to his fellow Ironborn, but Euron's ambition was greater than simply being king of the Iron Islands. He had goals that the men under his commands could scarcely imagine; every single past King of Pyke and the Iron Islands was a small thinker, limited like their reach in combat. The Iron Fleet had been under command of weak men for far too long; and this crown gave him the power to change that greatly. Like the act of killing Balon, or cutting his crew's tongues out, setting Yara's fleet ablaze, killing those stupid little Sand Snakes. They were all stepping stones, just like the coral crown he held in his hands; the image of a King was just another way of achieving his goals.

A great image went a long way.

His brother used to feel the same way before he went to the far South. That was something Euron didn't think about very often; ever since flinging Balon off the bridges of Pyke, Euron didn't usually spare a second thought on either of his brothers, be it the one he knew dead and the one he thought long dead.

The siege of Pyke had fragmented him and his brothers in more ways than one. Balon submitted to the south like the weak fool he was, Euron was exiled to the east and 'driven mad' as many of his enemies had put it. And Victarion…went deep South and was never heard from again.

Shaking his head of these thoughts, Euron smiled as he set the helmet back in its place.

Valyrian Steel was light, easy to move in; this suit wouldn't sink beneath the waves and it would not yield easily to any blade of iron or steel. It was the armour of a king; and a king is exactly what Euron was. But the real instrument of his victory lay in a chest stashed below his armour. Another object of Valyrian steel that would bring the Dragon Queen and her mighty beasts to heel when he made use of it.

The Kraken king was readying himself for a war unlike any other. If only he knew what events fate had in store for him; then again, the insanity of Euron was something even the gods had no control over.

"Aegon the Conquerer had a smaller army than every one of his enemies, a smaller navy…but he won Westeros because he had Dragons" Euron smiled as he reached forward and stroked the box.

"His empire will have been a footnote next to mine"

* * *

The snow fell light and slowly around the Heart Tree of Winterfell; the tree's bright red leaves standing out against the white of winter as the last living son of Eddard Stark sat in his wheelchair, covered in heavy furs to protect him from the cold.

However, Brandon Stark was not alone for very long. As the man responsible for his condition approached him; Widow's Wail hanging from his side and golden hand shimmering in the reflected light from the snow. But Bran had nothing to fear from the Kingslayer, for killing the son of Eddard was the last thing on his mind.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you" Jamie said, breaking the silence around them.

"You weren't sorry then…you were protecting your family" Bran replied as coldly as he normally replied these days.

"I'm not that person anymore" Jamie replied; walking around to face Bran.

"You still would be, if you hadn't pushed me out of that window. And I would still be Brandon Stark"

"You're not?" Jamie asked with a confused brow.

"No, I'm something else now…it's hard to explain" Bran replied.

"You're not angry with me?" Jamie asked with narrowed eyes.

"I'm not angry at anyone…I…I don't think I can be angry at all anymore"

"Why didn't you tell them? Jon Snow and the other Northerners must have heard the rumours…but you could have told them the truth…why not?" Jamie asked.

"If I told them, you wouldn't be able to help us. You couldn't help us if Jon cut your head off"

"What about Afterwards?" Jamie asked.

"What makes you think there will be an afterwards?" Bran asked, making a chill in the air.

"Are our chances really that bleak?" Jamie asked.

"I've seen him…the Night King. I don't know exactly what he is…he is old…ancient…powerful…and he can see, like I can" Bran explained with the same monotone he usually did.

"You can…see what?" Jamie asked for confirmation; not nearly as well versed in Northern superstition as the Northerners he was now surrounded by.

"Things that have been…things that are happening right now…and glimpses of what may be" Bran replied.

"The future? You can see the future?" Jamie asked surprised.

"Possible futures, like trying to see your reflection in a flowing river…it changes all the time with every action taken" Bran replied again, he seemed bored explaining his abilities as if he were discussing paint drying.

"…Then what comes next?" Jamie asked.

"…You fight" Bran replied dryly.

* * *

For so long; the flames had given her the answers, answers to questions she didn't know. Hazy glimpses of futures that may or may not happen were all she had ever been granted by her Lord. She had done terrible things in his name, made other easily led people do terrible things in his name. The name of a God she truly knew nothing about, a God that she didn't believe anyone knew anything about.

But her future was no longer in her hands.

As Melisandre of Asshai sat there below deck, staring at the flickering flames in her brazier. She pondered many questions she wanted answers to; why was she here? what was her next move? Could the war be won? Who was the one who was promised?

The only answer she got was a single image.

Winterfell

For so long she had believed that the Lord of Light, R'hllor, was the ultimate force of goodness, that whatever she did in his name was always a justifiable act of good. She had burned men, women and children at the stakes for refusing to follow the Light of R'hllor. She had done terrible things in his name.

A God that now, in her state of doubt, she realized she knew as much about him as the next person.

Not at all.

R'hllor, the Lord of Light, and his nemesis, the Great Other, a force of Light and a force of Darkness, a force of good and evil, a force of life and death. She used to think it so black and white, and in doing so she saw this world as black and white.

So simple a way to view things.

Like the child she had never been.

But the real world was grey, as were the people within it and the actions that they took. She didn't know anything about her Lord, nor did she know anything about his enemy, the Night King. She didn't understand why one moment her Lord would resurrect a good and honourable man like Jon Snow, but then reward the brutal murder of an innocent little girl.

She could still hear the Princess' screams whenever she went to sleep. It had felt like the right option when she first did it, but the more time passed the more she knew she had done something irredeemable. Shireen was everything Davos said she was, good, kind, innocent, a pure soul if one ever existed.

What kind of God ordered the brutal murder of a child that good?

And now she understood the behaviour of Thoros of Myr. Why he looked so drunk and miserable when she met him. She had gone through the doubting, the self-hatred, the wondering of why she was even here. Now all she was left with was a sense that no matter what came…she would play a part in it.

She didn't know if R'hllor was good or not, she didn't think she would ever know. She had given up on trying to understand the will of the God she had chosen to serve for most of her life. She couldn't even decide on whether the Night King was good or evil. Were Good and Evil just words made up by men to justify their actions? It certainly seemed that way now.

All she could do now, was do whatever needed to be done to preserve life. Even if it meant siding with a cruel, unfeeling god that used people like pawns in his war.

"Milady, we are coming into Sea Dragon Point now" one of the deckhands called from outside her cabin.

Even if it meant throwing her life into the same black void that she had sent so many others into.

* * *

Jamie had to be honest; he never thought he would be in a situation like this ever since Tyrion was taken captive by Catlyn Stark. Stood in the centre of Winterfell during winter; as snow fell down around him, people that would want nothing more than to slit his throat or put his head on a pike rather than speak to him.

He couldn't blame them to be fair.

He was the man who commanded armies that killed so many of their countrymen, their fathers and brothers and sons had died in the war with his family. He had done terrible things to the North in the past few years; all in the name of the family legacy, a legacy held now by the woman he loved, that proved she was a spiteful and hateful wretch.

"It's nice not being the most hated man in Winterfell anymore" Tyrion smiled as he and Jamie walked side by side.

"Oh, lucky you...for once you are in a better position than I am" Jamie smiled back "Must feel Liberating"

"Oh, I wouldn't know about that. For some reason I thought Cersei would care about her child enough to help in this battle. Now I can tell Daenerys won't be giving me many other chances after this latest failure" Tyrion replied sadly.

"She isn't as bad as I thought she would be, this new Queen of yours" Jamie replied.

"She's your new Queen too" Tyrion replied.

"Makes a good change from the last Targaryen I saw, young, sane and honestly much better to look at" Jamie replied.

"Don't get any ideas…she's taken" Tyrion grinned at his brother.

"Yes, I noticed…Never thought I would see the sight, a Targaryen and a Stark as close as those two" Jamie shook his head in amazement.

"Well he isn't exactly a Stark" Tyrion shot back.

"Hardly think names matter much at this point" Jamie smiled back.

The two came across the battlements; walking their way of the stone steps, Northerners giving them hateful looks all the while. Tyrion by himself only seemed to get a mild neglect from the Northerners, but Jamie was getting full on death glares from most of them. Every once in a while, a Northern warrior would spit at the floor as he walked past them.

It was better than a sword through the face.

"Oh, how the masses rejoice at the reunion of the Lannister brothers" Tyrion remarked as they came to stop by the wall.

"It's a better lot than the last time I was given Northern Hospitality. At least I won't have to shit myself while tied to a post…yet" Jamie smiled back.

Tyrion and Jamie smiled at each other, the simple comfort of being with their brother was enough to overshadow the hate emanating from the Northerners, the dread of the approaching threat, and the worry in Tyrion's mind over Daenerys' disappointment with him.

"Not how I planned to die you know" Jamie remarked "Up North, in Winterfell, surrounded by Starks and Targaryens…last thing that ever occurred to me"

"How do you think I feel? I wanted to die at the old age of 80, with a belly full of wine and a…" Tyrion began until Jamie cut in.

"Girls mouth around my/your cock" both Lannister brothers chuckled as they finished the sentence together.

"At least Cersei won't get to murder me…it'll feel good denying her that satisfaction" Tyrion smirked as Jamie's attention was drawn away by a familiar voice over in the fields.

Jamie blanked out the rest of what Tyrion was saying when he noticed none other than Brienne of Tarth out in the fields, training with what looked like…Podrick, good gods he looked like a proper warrior. Jamie noticed them training with a group of younger men, round about Pod's age, and he had definitely improved quite a bit in his swordsmanship.

"You should talk to her, when given the chance. She saved your arse when I couldn't" Tyrion smiled.

*BWAAAAAAARM!*

"RIDERS APPROACHING!"

Tyrion and Jamie snapped to attention when they looked out to the fields and saw a group of men on horseback, riding at full gallop, led by a hooded man all in black.

"Never a dull moment?" Jamie looked at Tyrion as men snapped to attention all around them.

* * *

Jon rushed through the courtyard with Daenerys by his side; Arya and Sansa were already in the courtyard waiting for the Queen and her Warden. Lord Reed was also there with his hands clasped in front of him; smiling when he saw Jon and Dany approach.

Jon's face lit up when he saw Sam already embracing the newly returned Edd. The smile on his face betrayed his emotions as he marched forward with a purpose, but before he got close enough to embrace his old friend.

"AAAHAHAHAHA!" Tormund tackled Jon out of nowhere, threatening to take him off his feet and plant him on his back. The Red-haired wildling grabbed Jon by the arms and pulled him into a strong embrace.

"My Little crow! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Tormund grinned insanely as he laughed.

"I thought you lot died" Jon laughed, looking back and forth from Tormund, Edd and Beric.

"Sorry to disappoint you" Tormund grinned.

Jon found himself gladly embracing the Last lord Commander and the Lightning Lord as warmly as he could. Edd was his last remaining friend from the Watch not including Sam, and though he hadn't spent much time with Beric; they had bonded beyond the wall as best as they could, as two men brought back from the dead in service of the living.

"How?" Jon asked.

"We managed to escape Eastwatch, we met up with the Lord Commander on the way here…and we wouldn't be standing here if not for him" Beric pointed over to the man dressed all in black; Hood up and mask obscuring his face as he fiddled with his horse's saddle.

"I'll have to thank him, personally…how much time before the dead get here?" Jon asked.

"We nearly killed the horses riding full gallop…the way the dead were moving…3 days if we are lucky" Edd replied sourly.

"3 days…seven hells" Jon sighed as he ran a hand through his beard.

"Is the big woman still here?" Tormund asked with a grin, Jon smirking back at the Wildling.

Sansa heard Beric refer to the man in black as the reason they were standing here; and being the Lady of Winterfell, she chose to approach him first. He seemed to be buckling his horse's saddle as if trying to look busy, he kept his head down and his back to everyone.

"Remove your hood ser, we are in your debt for bringing our allies back to us" Sansa greeted.

The man stood there, still as a statue as he heard Sansa's voice; his blackened hands no longer fiddling with the buckles of his saddle as he realized the situation. He had come home after so long, suffered so much isolation and constant battle against the dead; he never thought it possible he would be back in the castle he was born in, his Nieces and Nephews waiting for the uncle they thought long dead.

"My sister asked you to remove your hood" Arya stepped forward, a few Stark men keeping their hands near their swords as he remained silent before he let out a short and gruff chuckle.

"You sound just like your aunty, Arya…and you sound just like your mother, Sansa" Benjen smiled behind his mask, his back still turned to his nieces.

Sansa, Arya and even Jon's eyes widened exponentially when they heard that voice. It was a voice they had not heard for so long; a voice that Jon last heard telling him to ride back to Eastwatch and to leave him behind. It couldn't be, Jon saw him fall to the army of the dead, Sansa and Arya thought their ears were deceiving them as they thought him dead beyond the wall long ago.

"Turn around and lower your hood" Sansa said sternly, trying to hide the nervous tremble in her voice.

All where silent as the man slowly turned and removed his hood and his mask before looking up at the two girls that were still his nieces after so long. Benjen could feel the emotions welling up inside him as he saw a young Cat and a younger Lyanna standing before him. Last he saw Arya and Sansa, they were children, Arya little feral thing that sprinted around the castle, Sansa a little princess of a girl in her floral dresses.

But here they were, a She-Wolf and a proper Lady of the North.

"…Uncle Benjen?" Sansa whispered as tears began to well up, she was never as close to Benjen as Jon or Arya were…but he was family, he was a part of the pack even after they had been separated for so long.

"Uncle Benjen" Arya could feel those years of Faceless Man training melt like snow as she saw the face of her father's brother. Benjen was always good to them, to her and Jon, he understood her fierce and independent ways far better than even Ned did. And seeing him, here and alive in Winterfell.

It was like a scene from a dream.

Benjen stood there with baited breath, afraid of what they thought of him, with his frostbitten pale skin, scarred face, his tired voice and his black frostbitten hands. Would they even see him as their uncle anymore? Would they accept him? Was he still a member of the pack? Or was he just a lone wolf after all.

All his questions were answered when Sansa and Arya ran into his arms and threw their around him in the most powerful embrace he could imagine. He wrapped his arms around the two girls and squeezed his eyes shut as he relished in the warmth of a long overdue familial embrace.

Sansa and Arya were at the edge of tears as they buried their faces into the crooks of their Uncle's neck. The Oldest living Stark had finally returned home, to Winterfell.

"Uncle Benjen?" Jon asked as he stepped forward, Benjen meeting eyes with Jon as Sansa and Arya let go and stepped back. Jon was always the child closest to Benjen growing up; he never once judged Jon or mistreated him like Lady Catlyn did. Benjen never had sons or daughters of his own, and he never would. But if he did, he would be proud if they were anything like Jon.

Jon and Benjen embraced each other; tears threatening to fall from Jon's eyes as he was afraid to let go of his Uncle, his hero, for fear that he may lose him once again.

"It's alright Jon…I'm here" Benjen whispered in his Nephew's ear.

"I…I thought…you were dead" Jon whispered back; eyes squeezed shut as he kept his arms around him.

"Not quite" Benjen chuckled back as he and Jon broke their embrace.

"I…I saw the Wights, I saw them bring you down…how…How are you still alive?" Jon asked with amazement and disbelief in his voice; still not fully convinced Benjen was real.

"A discussion best saved for closed doors I'm afraid. But we'll talk later…I'm home" Benjen smiled as he placed his hand against Jon's cheek.

"You've picked up a few scars…you're a man now" Benjen smiled as Jon let out an emotionally drained laugh.

Northerners gathered around and saw the sight of Benjen returned; many of the older Lords and warriors that recognised him approached and welcomed him back with pats on the back, plenty greetings of "Welcome Home Lord Stark" thrown his way as Benjen walked his way towards the Silver hair he picked out of the crowd.

There stood Daenerys Targaryen, her hands clasped in front of her as Benjen stood there after being greeted back. Dany knew this man by reputation; Jon never stopped talking about him, Jon spoke of him in the same vein of family that he spoke about Arya and Lord Eddard and so far, Arya seemed to like her.

Benjen was the closest thing to a father Jon had now, and she wanted to make a good impression.

But all the Northerners seemed to tense up when they realized that Benjen now stood in front of the woman whose father killed his brother and father. Many of the Northerners that were still untrusting of Daenerys had their hands ready to draw swords if things went badly, this was of course noticed by the Unsullied and Dothraki that were present that kept their weapons close for the protection of their Queen.

"Uncle Benjen, may I introduce, Queen Daenerys of house Targaryen" Jon smiled as he stood in between Benjen and Dany.

"Lord Stark; I am honoured to meet you" Dany held out her hand nervously.

Benjen smiled and took Dany's hand and raised it to his lips, placing a kiss against the back of her palm "Your grace, the honour is mine" Benjen greeted with the upmost respect.

"I'm…I'm sorry for what my father did to your family. On behalf of House Targaryen I beg your forgiveness for his crimes, in burning your father and brother" Dany took in a deep breath before begging for Benjen's forgiveness.

"Did you burn them?" Benjen asked.

"…No" Dany replied; confused.

"Did you see them burn?"

"No"

"Are you Aerys Targaryen?" Benjen continued his line of questioning.

"No" Dany became more and more confused with each new question.

"Then why are you apologizing? You have never harmed my family, you or any forces under your command? Instead you are here…ready to fight with us" Benjen smiled as he looked upon Daenerys and saw her face soften at his smile.

"Now I think we ought to get inside. I have much to tell you" Benjen replied as Jon and Dany led the way, Benjen making sure to keep Dark Sister hidden from prying eyes as Arya and Sansa followed him towards the main hall.

The Lone Wolf had returned to Winterfell, returned home, and the Pack was whole again.

* * *

**So how did everyone like it? Not the biggest chapter in terms of huge action or shock moments, but I hope it pleased everybody as we inch closer towards the arrival of the Walkers. As you've noticed I did borrow mainly the same Jamie stuff from Season 8 episode 2 (that episode had its nice moments) with my own little differentiations for flavour. But don't worry, I am NOT going in that same direction as the show did…so no thinking I'm going to pull a D&D and suddenly lose half of my brain and write like a pair of 5-year-olds who have just had a lobotomy. **

**Some Takeaways from this chapter:**

**-Mel is back in westeros**

**-Grey Worm, Gendry and the Hound bond**

**-Euron has a secret weapon**

**\- Dany and Jon heal a tiny bit together**

**-Tormund, Edd and Beric arrive at Winterfell**

**-Jamie and Bronn arrive at Winterfell**

**-and Benjen comes home.**

**I promise next chapter will have some good moments of its own. Some Jamie/Brienne will happen, some Benjen reconnecting with the Starks, we see how things are back in King's Landing, Theon returns and finally last but certainly not least…Jon and Dany. **

**Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to see some feedback in the review section! Dakkaman777 signing out!**


	8. When the Snows Fall

**Yeah, I know, this fast of an update!? Crazy eh? Well the reason for this is that I don't want to keep making chapters with a word count of 10,000 words, keeping it smaller makes them easier to read I suppose, and it does mean I'll be able to get stuff out to you guys all the faster.**

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, even if it is a bit shorter than the other chapters.**

**Enjoy **

**EDIT/22/07/2019 - Changed Septim to Septon….My bad, I did a brain fart and spelt it wrong...sorry guys XD **

**Chapter 8: When the Snows fall**

To say that the story Benjen told the gathered Lords and Ladies of the hall had left them amazed with mouths agape and eyes like saucers, would be an understatement. A story saturated with references to the mythical children of the forest, the fabled Three Eyed Raven, giants and White Walkers and all manner of things the Northerners thought as myths.

It was certainly something they would tell their grandchildren if they lived through this.

Beric, Edd and the remaining Night's Watchmen that followed them quietly ate stew while Tormund and the surviving free folk from Eastwatch Scarfed down their food ravenously.

"…When the wall fell, so did the magic that was stopping me from crossing; of course, it also means the Walkers could also cross. I still had fight in me, and the living need every hand they can get" Benjen continued with his story, his hands clasped together in front of him as everyone listened.

Benjen was sat in the centre of the hall, in front of the table where Jon, Dany, Sansa, Tyrion and Jamie sat. The other lords, ladies and battle commanders sat nearby; slowly taking in the words of the technically dead Benjen Stark.

"Uncle Benjen" Jon called for his uncle's attention.

"Beyond the wall…I saw the wights overtake you…I thought you were dead. How did you survive?" Jon asked.

"When the Wights overpowered me, they pierced my chest again and again, would have torn me to shreds if their masters didn't have other plans to concoct…but I didn't die…I can't die like a normal man anymore…" Benjen began before taking a deep breath.

"…the Walkers had already killed me…a Walker pierced my gut with a sword of ice, ever since then I've been on the verge of death; all the Children did was bring the process to a halt. The same magic that keeps me moving is the same magic that created the Night King" Benjen explained.

"Besides…I couldn't die, until I delivered this…" Benjen reached into his cloak and unbuckled his sword belt; revealing the Longsword he had been carrying this whole time. Benjen walked towards the silver haired Queen sat at the head of the table.

"Dark Sister, the ancestral Longsword of House Targaryen" Benjen stated as he presented Dark Sister to Daenerys.

"You'll need this for the fight to come"

Dany's eyes widened as she looked at the sword, at the dragon wing cross guard, the single ruby imbedded in the hilt, at the intricate Valyrian patterns all over the scabbard. Arya recognised the sword as the one wielded by Visenya Targaryen during Aegon's conquest of Westeros, the legendary Dark Sister.

The last surviving Valyrian steel sword of House Targaryen. And Benjen presented it to the last pure Targaryen alive, the descendant of Visenya herself. Dany cautiously took the sword from Benjen as if it were made of glass and could break at any second. She unsheathed the blade about an inch and saw the beautiful Valyrian steel ripples and High Valyrian scrawls written on the base of the blade.

"Where did you get this?" Dany asked.

"Its last wielder lived beyond the Wall. He no longer had need of it, and it should be wielded by the last Targaryen" Benjen replied.

Doubt began to show on Dany's face as she glanced to Jon at her left; she wasn't the last Targaryen she knew this, she had about as much right to this sword as she did the Iron Throne. She had never even wielded a sword before, Valyrian steel would be wasted on her, especially in a battle. Doubts began to surface more and more as she kept thinking; Jon was a warrior, a brave warrior that deserved a sword like this, he could lead men into battle better than she ever could.

She didn't deserve this sword, she didn't deserve the Throne, she was even questioning if she deserved a man as good and noble as Jon. She couldn't give him children like any other woman could, she hadn't yet earned the loyalty of the Northerners despite bringing all of her forces here. They never witnessed all the good she did in Essos, they all thought her presence here was only because Jon convinced her and because she needed their help to claim the throne.

These thoughts littered Dany's head in this one moment, as doubt and fear and terror began to take hold. She had been fractured ever since learning of the truth, and even before she questioned her worth since falling for Jon. He was a great man that inspired everything she wanted to inspire in people, he had the right to the Seven Kingdoms, he was a man that fought beside his soldiers, he was good, kind, caring.

He had never set alight a man's father and brother because they refused to kneel.

Dany's doubts had grown like a cancer within her; she had been shown distrust and hatred and suspicion by many of the Lords and Ladies here. They would never trust her the way they trusted Jon; and now here she was…and she couldn't bring herself to take this sword.

This sword that was about as much hers as the Throne she had sworn to take.

"My Lord…I thank you for bringing this sword here…but…" Dany spared a glance to Jon; hoping he would forgive her for what she was about to do. Jon could see the look on her face and all he could think was '_No…Dany don't, please'_

Jon wasn't afraid because of it was his secret to tell, he wasn't afraid of the Northern Lords thinking less of him, he was terrified about what this reveal would do to Dany. He knew the truth could put her life in danger, if they found out she wasn't the last Targaryen then they would never kneel to her. The same doubts had been seeded in his mind since Bran and Sam told him who he really was, and right now they were telling him that the truth could mean her death.

"But this sword is not mine by right…it belongs to the last living male heir of House Targaryen" Dany stood up slowly, trying to not to let her voice shake or tremble as she placed it on the table in front of Jon.

"Your grace, what are you saying?" Tyrion asked as confused murmurs began to spread throughout the crowd. The only people that didn't seem to have any looks of confusion on their faces were Bran, Howland, Meera and Benjen.

Arya was surprised that Dany took it upon herself to be the one to let the truth be known. Sansa was taken aback in the most surprising of ways, she half expected Daenerys to order them to secrecy. Sam was surprised to see the same woman that had admitted to killing his father and brother even consider doing this.

"Sitting beside me is the trueborn son…of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen" Daenerys announced.

"My brother Rhaegar didn't rape Lyanna Stark; they loved each other, were married and bore a son…a son that Lyanna's brother Ned Stark swore to protect, and in doing so raised as his bastard son, to protect him from Robert Baratheon" Dany further explained; barely able to keep her voice from breaking.

Within a matter of seconds the entire room was in an uproar, the Northern Lords yelling at the top of their voices, as arguments began to break out over what Daenerys had said, many called her a liar, many called her for a would be usurper, others shouted out that she had no right to be a Queen, many simply shouted for her to be brought down so Jon could be king. At least, that's what Daenerys thought they were yelling, it may as well have been when she let the truth slip.

Dany looked to Jon with a look of pure sadness on her face; tears threatening to fall. Jon looked at her in heartbreak, why had she done that? Why did she have to tell them? Why now? Jon didn't have a chance to ask those questions when Dany made for the exit, Jorah, Grey Worm and Qhono immediately on her heels, their hands hovering over their weapons should anyone dare make for their Queen.

Missandei followed as did Tyrion though the Imp had a look of utter shock plastered across his face; he would have stayed to talk to Jon but his Queen needed him now. Jon stood there as Arya stood up and went to his side, his eyes were still glued to the door that Dany had left out of as the Northern Lords continued to shout and argue over this revelation.

"Jon, snap out of it!" Arya growled as she hit Jon in the arm, snapping him out of his daze.

"Why…why did she say that?" Jon breathed heavily.

"She is in pain Jon! She needs you! Like you needed her!" Arya told him over the loud yelling and shouting of the Lords.

"My Lords please, settle down!" Sansa stood up, many of the lords shutting up at her words.

"How could this be true!? How do you know?" Lord Manderly demanded.

"Samwell Tarly and My brother Brandon discovered the secret in the diary of a High Septon" Sansa explained.

"It's true. I was there with Lord Eddard when we went to rescue Lyanna from the tower of Joy" Howland announced.

"Do any of you Lords think me a liar?" Howland asked as many eyes turned to him.

"No…No Lord Reed, no man here would question your honour" Lord Glover replied with a nod.

"My King! Why would you tell that foreign Bitch?" Lord Roderick Flint, one of the Younger Northern Lords demanded as he stepped forward.

"…What did you say?" Jon almost growled as the words left the Lord's mouth.

"You were a king all along, why would you tell her of all people? You could have told us, played along to her quest for the Throne and take it when the moment was right" The Lord Flint said as the other Lords remembered how passionately Jon defended the Queen before.

Whoever this young Lord was, he didn't seem to understand the hole he dug himself into.

Jon moved by instinct as he moved around the table to bring his right fist colliding with Flint's face, an almighty thwack as Jon sent the younger man tumbling to the floor gripping his bleeding nose. Jon's eyes were aflame, more fire within him than the first night they had been in Winterfell. He stood over the Lord as he spoke with fury and fire in his voice.

"Speak about her like that again, and you lose your head!" Jon growled as his other hand latched onto the hilt of Longclaw. Ghost growled and bared his teeth as he stalked toward Flint, sharing his master's rage and love for Daenerys.

Flint stared up at his King with a look of fear etched across his face. Some of the other lords got flashbacks to when Greatjon Umber got two of his fingers bitten off by Grey Wind when he spoke out against Robb Stark, only this time they were convinced that Flint wouldn't start laughing and Jon wouldn't nearly be as merciful as Robb.

"My Lords, that will be all" Sansa called out; no one needed to tell Roderick Flint twice as he scrambled to his feet and got out while he could. The other Northern Lords seemed as silent as the grave as the figure that was once a timid bastard boy was now a fiery Dragon King before their very eyes.

When most of the lords left, Jon turned to Benjen to see him still holding Dark Sister in his hands. Benjen and Howland both looked at Jon with an unexpected look of pride; they didn't look shocked in the slightest, his uncle and the Lord of Greywater Watch.

"Did you know?" Jon asked Benjen.

"I knew my sister and I knew my brother better than anyone. Ned would never betray Cat, and I saw first-hand how Rhaegar and Lyanna looked at each other" Benjen buckled Dark Sister to his belt again.

"Don't waste time on us my King, we can talk later. I get the sense your lady needs you" Howland approached and put a hand on Jon's shoulder.

Jon stormed out of the room as fast as he could, Ghost on his heels and Davos quickly following behind.

"Davos what are you doing?" Jon asked as his feet carried him through the halls.

"I'm here to do my job. Stop you from doing anything stupid" the Onion Knight replied quickly.

"Stupid how?" Jon stopped in his tracks and looked at Davos.

"Stupid, as in saying something that could end up making the situation worse than it already is" Davos replied just as fierce as Jon.

"How in seven hells could I possibly make this worse?" Jon asked.

"Better to say nothing to her, than break her heart more than you already have" Davos replied with a stern look on his face.

"What would you know about it!? I never wanted to be what I am! Two days ago, I was happy, I was in love with a beautiful woman who loved me back, now I break her heart without doing anything!" Jon growled as he glared at Davos.

But the Onion Knight didn't bend, nor did he stand there and take it as he shoved Jon against the wall with a hand on his shoulder with all the strength and will that a father would command of a son he wanted to help, even if the son didn't want that help.

"I don't know what pain you are going through Lad; I wish I did so I could help more. I can't imagine what pain there is in learning your whole identity has been a lie…But I know you. And I bet you anything that upon learning this you did what you always do, you skulked away and brooded by yourself…without thinking what this did to her!" Davos growled back with ferocity.

"You are a good man Jon…one of the best if not the best I've ever known. Ever since I met you as a steward of the Night's Watch, I could tell you were meant for something greater. You are as much of a King as any of those shits that sat on the throne…more so I reckon. It's no surprise you have the blood of Kings in your veins, but that Girl loves you…that should be the only thing on your mind right now. So, I swear to all the seven, to all the old gods and every other fucking god there is, if you go to her to brood and act like a Bastard, I will fucking brain you" Davos growled.

Jon was stunned speechless; Davos had never spoken to him this way. Davos had always been respectful, very sure never to step over any boundaries, the Onion Knight had even told Jon how far he had gone with Stannis, he had never once spoken to the Stag king the way he had just spoken to Jon. He was angry, but concerned and deep-down Jon could tell every word was sincere and heartfelt.

"…You heard what she said in there. About me, about who I really am…why did she do that?" Jon asked with confusion and an ounce of fear littering his voice.

"She is hurt Jon. But she loves you, she probably knew a secret like that would come out eventually, better she do it and take all the pain that comes with it" Davos replied.

"But why…why, I could take it, she knows I can" Jon could feel his own voice tremble.

"People do stupid things when they are in love lad" Davos smiled softly.

"I see the way you two look at each other, and it's beautiful. You are a good man, and she is a good woman; the world has already given you both the shit end of the stick, but you have never let that stop you before. No matter what happens you two can't falter, you and her are the only hope for the future, in more ways than one" Davos reached up and put both hands on Jon's shoulders.

"Promise me you won't give up on her Jon" Davos' eyes softened.

"Never…I'll never give up on her" Jon replied utter surety.

Davos smiled before taking a step back "Then go to your Queen, your grace"

* * *

"Now while I appreciate the dramatic flair you have my Queen…perhaps it would have been best to let us know in private before telling everyone within earshot" Tyrion said as he began pouring wine.

"The truth had to be known…I couldn't stand there and let people look at him like a bastard for one instant longer. He is a King, he deserves to be treated like one, that sword Benjen Stark had is Jon's by right, so is the Iron Throne" Daenerys replied.

"You are our Khaleesi! We follow you because we want to, not because of some Westerosi tradition" Qhono growled angrily in Dothraki.

"Blood of my Blood, you will calm yourself" Dany replied in Dothraki.

"He will never be our Khal! You are our Khaleesi, if Westerosi want Khaleesi's throne they will have to get through 100,000 Bloodriders!" Qhono growled back in Dothraki, his devotion to Daenerys shining through.

"I will hear no more Qhono" Dany shot back.

Qhono huffed and walked over to the corner of the room, his hands at his waist as his teeth grit shut. He was itching to cut something down with his Arakh with how angry he was. Grey Worm wasn't doing much better, seeing the Westerosi in the main hall act like they did when his Queen revealed Jon's heritage sickened him.

Were Westerosi that blinded by blood rights and succession?

Daenerys, Jorah, Grey Worm, Missandei, Tyrion and Qhono stood gathered in Daenerys' chambers. After that little bit of improvised drama, Daenerys thought her closest advisors better have a chance to get a word in edgewise. Grey Worm had been pondering the way the Northern Lords had acted when she told them. Their Queen had already given them so much, one of her dragons had died for them, now she brought her remaining two and both of her armies to help them, and their reaction to the truth was to reject her further?

"My Queen, are you sure Jon Snow is who you say he is?" Missandei asked.

"I know he is. How else could he ride Rhaegal the way he does?" Dany replied as she gazed into the fire.

"It does not matter who he is. We follow Daenerys Stormborn, we continue to follow Daenerys Stormborn" Grey Worm interjected; to him it didn't matter what blood Jon Snow carried, Daenerys was the Queen he chose and he would follow her to the edges of the world.

"I'm afraid it does matter Grey Worm. Our Queen was going to sway the people of this country based upon her claim to the throne…as long as there is a male Targaryen in the world her claim will be put into question. Jon Snow is a great leader, a proven warrior, the North loves him and they won't follow Daenerys as long as he lives" Tyrion replied.

"No one will harm him" Daenerys ordered and all eyes turned to her.

"Your grace…I wasn't suggesting…" Tyrion began.

"I know how the game works Tyrion. Backstabbing, lying, scheming and the brutal murder of all those who are a threat. I will not allow Jon to be a part of it, the throne belongs to him by right and we shall get him there when the war against the dead is finished" Dany replied, still looking sadly at the flames.

"Khaleesi, you are the Queen that the Seven Kingdoms deserves. Snow is a good man but…" Jorah began.

"I've already told you, he isn't a Snow" Daenerys looked at Jorah, he could see the heartbreak in her eyes. She didn't want Jon's parentage to be true anymore than anyone else; but it was a truth she couldn't keep bottled up forever.

Dany didn't know what was happening to her recently, she had always been able to control herself and her emotions very well; but since coming to Winterfell she felt, off. She felt like her emotions were off balance, she didn't have the same control over herself as she usually did. She didn't know why, but she felt like a whirlwind was going off inside of her. The reveal of Jon's parentage had only worsened this hurricane, throwing doubt, fear and sadness into the already potent mix of love and weakness that falling for Jon had created.

The door to Dany's chambers opened and all of a sudden steel was drawn. Grey Worm drew his dagger in a reverse grip, Qhono drew his Arakh and Jorah drew his Longsword. Jon in any other circumstance would have been surprised or shocked by the sudden display of steel in front of him; but in this case all he could do was meet eyes with the silver haired beauty standing in front of the hearth.

The teary violet eyes of the woman he loved hurt more than all the daggers the Mutineers at Castle Black ever could. Seeing her that full of doubt hurt him; she needed him there for her and he was too weak and consumed by how own identity crisis, that he couldn't see how much she herself was hurting.

"Leave us" Dany spoke to all of her advisors.

"My Queen, are you sure?" Grey Worm asked.

"I have nothing to fear from him. He won't hurt me" Dany never broke eye contact with Jon as she spoke.

Jorah nodded and gestured for the others to leave, the Bear knight only smiled when he noticed the huge White Direwolf trotting into the room and straight to Dany. Jorah had learned that Jon's Direwolf was more protective of Dany than anyone during their short time at Winterfell. Ghost seemed to spend more time around Dany than he did these days.

Jorah glanced at Jon and leaned into his ear, whispering quietly so no one else could hear.

"You take care of her…or no gods will save you from me" the Bear Knight borderline growled into the Dragonwolf's ear.

"If I don't…I hope you make it slow" Jon whispered back with a look of understanding.

Jorah nodded to his fellow Northman before shutting the door behind him; that left only Jon, Dany and the giant Direwolf currently receiving a scratch behind the ear from Daenerys. Dany smiled softly at Ghost as he pressed his large head into her side and his large tail wagged back and forth.

"I'll never get over how fond he is of you" Jon smiled softly.

"Him…and Arya, the only Northerners who seem to have taken to me" Dany replied as she continued to stroke Ghost's head.

"Why did you tell them?" Jon asked calmly as he approached.

"Someone had to…and I didn't want to give Sansa or Samwell the satisfaction" Daenerys replied.

"What do you mean? Give them the satisfaction?" Jon asked.

"We all know how dangerous the truth can be. And both Sansa and Samwell would love nothing better than to use it to destroy me…destroy us" Dany replied; still not looking up. Jon didn't need to look up to know she was on the verge of tears.

Jon knew those words were coming from a bad place; she was hurting he could see it clear as day. In all his time wallowing and brooding he had failed to see how much the truth had hurt her. Sam was his best friend and Sansa was his sister; he knew they were good people, but they had been cold to Dany, cold to her ever since she arrived. The way Sansa had spoken about her to him made him angry, the way Sam spoke about her to him in private made him furious; and the way that Roderick Flint spoke about her made him want to kill.

"I know them…They'll come around and see the real you when the time comes, I know they will. Sam doesn't understand why you did what you did, and Sansa isn't herself; she hasn't been for so long. Give them time…please" Jon whispered.

"If I gave them time, Sansa would have spread it in secret, plot a way of getting rid of me so you could sit on the throne…whether or not you wanted it" Dany replied her eyes still fixed on the ground.

"They wouldn't do that. They wouldn't do it without my consent…why did you?" Jon asked as softly as he could; he didn't want his words to sound like an accusation. He took Davos' words to heart; he didn't want to say the wrong thing.

"If I am to fall…I want it on my terms" Dany replied as her lips seemed to tremble.

"Dany, what are you saying?" Jon asked as he got close enough to hold her arms in his.

"Now they know who you are; they'll never want to follow me…a foreign whore, a barren Queen that can't give an heir, someone who burns her enemies…just like her father" a tear dropped from Dany's eyes as Jon realized the full scope of what she was going through.

The Truth may have torn him apart but it was virtually flaying Dany alive; ever since she had found her strength amongst the Dothraki and had seen the horrors of slavery she had done everything in her power to make things better. She was a good person he knew it; there no debating all of the good things she had done for him and all the people of Essos.

"You are not your father; do you hear me? You are not a monster, or a maniac; you are a good person, I know you are" Jon's hand reached up to cup her face; to make her meet his eyes.

"You are a Queen…blood rights or not, you are the Queen I choose to follow. Tyrion, Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah, the Unsullied, the Dothraki they all follow you because you are a great Queen. They love you, and they would all die without a second thought for you…and so would I" Jon whispered as his thumbs caresses her cheeks.

"You once said…that the Northerners would come to see me for what I am…they do, they can see an Unworthy woman who was shadowing a worthy man…I'm drowning, and if you swim too close I'll drag you down with me…there is no future with me Jon" Dany's eyes began to water; tears close to falling.

"Dany…I told you…" Jon began until Dany placed a hand over his mouth.

"…you deserve a future, a family, children to call you father. I can't give you that. There is no future with me…a Barren Queen…not even that anymore" Dany looked away from Jon as the tears began to fall.

"The Throne is yours by right; so is that sword. I always thought I was the last hope of my house but I'm not. I'm a relic of a bygone era, clinging onto whatever I can while you are the future of our house. You can have a future; you can take a wife that loves you; that can give you a family…not like me" Dany's tears dripped onto the floor.

"Dany listen to me…Listen" Jon shook her arms; forcing her to face him.

"You are my family. I love you like I've never loved anyone before. I don't care that I can't have children with you…I want you. The throne; that sword; any crown anyone says I have a right to can go to hell if I can't share them with you" Jon pressed his forehead against hers.

"If you think for a second that I'll let the Northern Lords tear us apart, then you mistaken. I made several promises to you…my sword is yours and so is my heart; from this day until my last. You once said you would throw your crown into the narrow sea for me; well I would throw mine into the shivering sea for you…that and anything else you wanted me to be rid of…" Jon whispered as lovingly as he could.

"Jon…I can't"

"I joined the Night's Watch knowing I would never take a wife or have children...I never wanted either of them before I met you. I don't care if I never have children, if I get to spend my life with you…then I will" Jon pressed a kiss to her forehead; still caressing her cheeks with his thumbs.

The love that Jon could see in his Dany's eyes was something he would never tire of seeing. He could gaze into her violet orbs and stare at her divine facial features for days on end and he would never tire. The way she fit perfectly in his arms; the way her face fit his hands, the way her cheeks felt against his thumbs and fingertips. The way their lips felt as if the gods had moulded them to be for the other.

"Besides…we may be dead in four days' time, so all of this won't matter anyway" Jon smiled; bringing a much needle giggle from Dany's lips as she gazed into his eyes.

"There she is" Jon smiled as he hugged Dany close to him, feeling her arms wrap around his waist as his hand stroked down her braided silver locks.

"I love you…you know that?" Dany asked as she buried her face in the crook of Jon's neck.

"And I love you, Now and Always" Jon smiled as he kissed the crown of Dany's head; softly stroking her hair.

They both new they wouldn't make love tonight; it was obvious Dany needed time just as much as Jon. But it was obvious to the both of them; that they didn't need a tumble between the sheets to show the other their love. Ghost sat there, panting, almost smiling at the sight of his master and his mate holding one another.

If only they knew what he knew.

* * *

Arya stood on the battlements as she watched the sun slowly set on the horizon. The Nights were coming quicker and the days were getting shorter, the snows kept falling and the wind got chillier as the bright orb of flame sank beneath the edge of the world. The Dead were somewhere out there; either waiting for the right time to strike or slowly trudging their way through the snow.

Arya didn't know and she honestly didn't care; she had been through many hardships in her life so far. She had been hardened; like steel over a forge she had been broken and beaten to be made so much stronger than she was before. An army of corpses shouldn't be that terrifying to someone who had spent months amongst the Faceless men.

"I don't think I've ever seen you stay this still before" Benjen said as he approached his niece from behind.

Arya acted by instincts when she threw her arms around her long-lost uncle's waist. He chuckled as he stroked one hand down her hair; enjoying the feeling of being reunited with his family again. Arya may have been close to losing herself to the Faceless men, losing Arya Stark forever to become No One. But her ties to her family and her home were too strong for even the Faceless Assassins of Braavos to break.

"I missed you Uncle" Arya smiled against his chest.

"Aye, I can see that" Benjen smiled.

"You haven't grown that much, but I can tell you've grown up. I can see it in your eyes" Benjen said as Arya released him from their embrace and they looked at each other.

"I've…been through quite a journey" Arya smiled as they both went to look over the battlements at the sun setting.

It had been so long since Arya had seen Benjen, about as long since he had last been home. It was comforting in a way that before the end; Benjen could enjoy being in the presence of his family again; standing on the stones of the fortress built by his ancestors one last time. For many years Castle Black had been his home; but he was born within these walls, laughed with his brothers and his sister in these walls.

Winterfell was always his home; and he was glad he got to see it one last time, whether they won the coming battle or lost. The very same could be said for Arya; she had made it her mission to come back home and reunite with what remained of her family, and even with the dead slowly approaching and certain death on the horizon.

Arya wouldn't change it for the world.

"You've picked up the Stark gift of brooding I see" Benjen smiled at Arya as he noticed her silent contemplation.

"I've had plenty of practise" Arya smiled back and Benjen let out a small chuckle before stopping himself.

"What?"

"I'm sorry, it's just…you look and act so much like her it's scary" Benjen smiled.

"Who?"

"Your Aunt Lyanna" Benjen replied.

"…Jon's mother" Arya said with a small smile.

"Father never talked about her; I suppose we all know why" came a voice from behind. Both Benjen and Arya turned to see Sansa approaching with a small smile on her face. Benjen didn't need to be told what look meant as he wrapped his arms warmly around the red head in a familial embrace.

"I'm glad you're back" Sansa said; voice muffled against Benjen's fur cloak.

"Aye, me too" Benjen smiled as he and Sansa broke away. Now standing with both his nieces at his side Benjen simply enjoyed the presence of family after so long by himself.

"Did you always know? About Jon?" Sansa asked.

"I had my suspicions. I knew my brother well, and I saw first-hand how Lyanna looked at Rhaegar…the way all women looked at him was frankly irritating" Benjen smirked; earning small chuckles from Arya and Sansa.

"But the way those two looked at each other…when I heard Rhaegar had kidnapped her I didn't believe it. He was a good man, kind and brave and hated violence. When Ned came back with Jon…I always suspected he wasn't a Snow. But I never had proof until the Three Eyed Raven told me" Benjen continued.

"Three Eyed Raven? You mean Bran?" Arya asked.

"No; the Raven before him…a Targaryen Bastard named Brynden Rivers, he is the one that had this sword" Benjen held the hilt of Dark Sister and smirked when he saw Arya looking at it.

"Well? Fancy a go with it?" Benjen asked with a smirk.

"No…It's a bit too big for me. Besides I already have some Valyrian steel" Arya tapped the hilt of the Catspaw.

"I see you don't have any steel on you Sansa…any reason for that?" Benjen asked.

"A wolf doesn't need steel to make her enemies bleed uncle" Sansa smirked back; every inch the wolf despite her Tully looks, Benjen chuckled.

They had both grown up so much, both the spitting images of Lyanna and Catlyn, and like Lyanna and Catlyn they both had their own brand of ferocity. Lyanna was fierce with a sword, bow and lance just like Brandon had been, and Catlyn had a tongue so sharp it may as well have been a Greatsword. Both Arya and Sansa had taken after them in more than just looks; and it brought both pride and hope to the Lone Wolf that their house did indeed have a future.

"So…what about Jon?" Sansa asked.

"What about him? He is our brother, and that's all we need to know" Arya replied.

"He is our cousin" Sansa replied just as quickly.

"He is your Cousin by blood, Aye. But Ned raised him as your brother; he will always be your brother and he will always see you as his sisters. The war is coming and he needs you on his side; him and Daenerys" Benjen spoke again.

"…I'm…sorry, for the way I've been acting" Sansa said to Arya in particular.

"You don't have to" Arya shook her head.

"I do. I've been acting like the same prickly little bitch I was back before we left home the first time. Jon brought her to help us, she has given me no reason to dislike her aside from being a Targaryen…something she can't help" Sansa sighed; wringing her hands together.

"…Sorry for threatening to blacken your eye" Arya apologized.

"You don't have to be sorry for that, I sort of asked for it" Sansa smirked back.

"We can't afford to fight a war against ourselves. But even then; we can't blindly trust everyone that comes to us. Though I would advise a little bit of tact and discretion next time" Arya offered.

"Agreed" Sansa smiled back at her sister.

"Seven hells; I never thought I would see the day where you two got along" Benjen chuckled as he put his hands on their shoulders.

"To be fair we were almost ready to killed each other a few months back" Arya joked.

"Now that sounds about right" Benjen smiled.

"We have to help them; Jon may not be your brother by blood but he is family, and so is Daenerys. You've both seen the way they look at each other; Jon may only be half wolf, but he is part of the pack, and a true pack protects all its members…blood or not. When the snows fall and…"

"…And the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives" Arya and Sansa finished; making Benjen smile warmly at both of them.

"Ned and Cat would be proud; to see the women you two grew up to be" Benjen smiled as Arya and Sansa leaned into their uncle and just enjoyed the presence of their blood.

The Wild Wolf, The Red Wolf and The Lone Wolf all looked out to the snowy landscape that was their home; lit up by soft light of the rising moon. Very soon the sun would set for a long time; but the silver light hanging in the sky would constantly remind them that even in the darkest of moments.

There would be light.

* * *

**SO, what did everybody think? I know not everything I promised, but up at the top I did mention that the chapters leading up to the battle of Winterfell will be shorter to reduce waiting and the strain of having to slog through paragraphs of text. **

**Also hope you guys enjoyed the family reunion of Benjen and the Stark sisters, Sansa coming to realize that Dany isn't the threat she thought she would be, and of course Jon and Daenerys facing the complications that arise with the Truth.**

**Next chapter will be revolving around Tyrion, Jamie, Sansa, Jon and the arrival of two new allies for the coming battle.**

**Not too much, but enough to keep things moving at a regular pace. **

**I hope you guys Enjoy what I have planned next and please as always FEEDBACK IS APPRECIATED! PM's and Reviews, Follows and Favourites help me immensely!**

**DAKKAMAN777 SIGNING OUT!**


	9. Final Arrivals

**Ok everyone, another chapter just like I promised, just for clarity's sake it takes place RIGHT after the last chapter…sort of like every other chapter I've done so far. Again, I have to thank every single one of you for sticking with me on this little journey of recovery we've been on, I mean WOW 230+ reviews, 404 followers and 335 favourites, that's insane in my time on this site.**

**I hope you guys all enjoy what I got planned for this story, the emotions, completion of character arcs, some battle strategies that make sense! Oh, and also…**

**Robert Baratheon: WE'VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR DAYS…START THE DAM FIC BEFORE I PISS MESELF!**

…**ok, enough talking, onto the fic.**

**Chapter 9: Final Arrivals**

Emotions were a weakness.

That's what the masters of Astapor had told him all those years ago, when the forced him to purge himself of everything that made him human. A mere boy that hadn't even been a man, that hadn't laid with a woman, who hadn't even known the faces of his mother and father.

Grey Worm had been told emotions made you weak. But after meeting Missandei of Naath, after being freed by Daenerys Stormborn, he had realized emotions make you stronger. You fight harder for things you care about, for things you believe in, for things and people you love. Fear can make a man do terrible things, but without fear there was no courage. And courage is what made men into heroes.

Some emotions Grey Worm knew were venomous and should be kept in check. Jealously, Lust, Hatred, Vengeance, Fury; all of which could lead men to become monsters in the heat of warfare.

Fury was what Grey Worm was feeling as he marched down the halls of Winterfell; towards the shared dwellings of himself and Missandei. He had initially left his Queen to go and drill with some of the men, but they looked happy mingling with the Northern men. A younger soldier; White Ant he believed had grown very close to one of the older Northern soldiers, a strange sight to behold to see an Essosi Unsullied mingling with a Northern Bannerman of House Stark.

Grey Worm didn't want his fury for what happened to spoil the high spirits of his men. The Unsullied had terrible enough lives to not add his present fury to the mixture. And he didn't want to say the wrong things in front of the Northern soldiers; they seemed decent sorts and they were bonding with his men very well.

Sometimes it seemed as if the pressures of politics, successions and blood rights stuck only to those in charge. The soldiers and the common people seemed as oblivious to Jon Snow's true nature while Lords, Ladies, Knights and commanders would squabble about it until Winter ended.

Things were so much simpler when it was just them against the masters. He at least knew where to thrust his spear back then; now…not so much.

Right now, all Grey Worm wanted to do was find his paramour and just enjoy her company. But when the commander of the Unsullied stopped at the door to their chambers he heard Missandei speaking from the other side. If his hearing was right, she was retelling the tale of the Sons of the Harpy ambushing Daenerys at the Fighting pits.

"Ser Jorah was brave and Galant, defending our Queen with his very life despite her exiling him not once but twice. The Sons of the Harpy tried to kill Queen Daenerys again and again, but every time they fell to Unsullied spears and the broadsword of a Knight of the North…" she said with the tone of a true storyteller.

When Grey Worm opened the door, he was surprised to see Missandei sat at the hearth, with two small children sat on the fur rug in front of her. A little Northern girl and a slightly older Northern boy, both entranced at the translator's story.

The two children however were pulled from the story when Grey Worm shut the door behind him. Missandei turned to meet eyes with the commander of the Unsullied and a wide smile stretched across her beautiful face. That smile did wonders to calm him; and he was glad he chose to come to her in his moment of anger instead or get rid of it in a less healthy way.

"Jory, Uma; I'm willing to bet you can tell me who this is" Missandei smiled at the two children as they looked at Grey Worm with wide eyes and seemed to scan him from head to toe.

Grey Worm raised a brow at the way their faces lit up and practically bounded saying "Grey Worm! Grey Worm!" they cried excitedly. Now Grey Worm recognised these two, they were two of the children he had seen her tell stories to outside earlier that day. Of course, he noticed they hung closer to her than all the other children.

"…Hello" Grey Worm awkwardly waved his hand.

"These two angels are Jory and Uma. They…they don't have anywhere to stay; so, I said it would be alright to stay her with us. If that's alright with you?" Missandei asked with pleading eyes. Grey Worm looked back and forth from her and the children and they gave him probably the biggest puppy dog eyes he had ever seen.

How the hell could he possibly say no? Grey Worm nodded and huge smiles appeared on the faces of Missandei, Jory and Uma. In that moment Grey Worm doubted he had ever lost his humanity as he felt that same joy he felt whenever he saw Missandei smile.

"I was just telling them of how Queen Daenerys became the first person in hundreds of years to ride a dragon" the former slave smiled as she beckoned Grey Worm to join them. The commander of the Unsullied sat down in the chair opposite Missandei and put his hands in his lap as she began to tell Jory and Uma stories again.

But as Missandei told the tales; Grey Worm could only concentrate on the two children in front of them. The way they hung on every one of her words; laughed at the parts where Tyrion and Daario made jokes, gasped whenever the slavers would retaliate, and smiled widely whenever she spoke of Daenerys riding on Drogon, of Grey Worm and his fearless Unsullied, of the faithful ser Jorah and the bold Ser Barristan.

Grey Worm had to admit he found himself smiling alongside the children as Missandei displayed her natural talent of storytelling. He felt…happy. He never thought he would ever experience moments such as this, where he could see the woman he loved faun over children that hung on her every word.

Soon the children began throwing questions at both the Translator and the Essosi soldier. Grey Worm had to admit he enjoyed answering the questions the young ones pelted him with; it gave him a chance to further practise his common tongue and helped ease the tension he had been feeling since the Queen made her revelation in the great hall.

After a few more tales which culminated in them arriving in Westeros; the children became tired and weary eyed. Missandei smiled warmly as she helped the two into the bed and tucked them in nice and cosy.

Grey Worm still sat in his chair by the hearth as Missandei said goodnight to both Jory and Uma.

"You aren't angry, are you?" Missandei asked when she was sure Jory and Uma were fast asleep.

"Not about them…no. You did a good thing; letting them stay" Grey Worm replied before looking at the fire.

"She has never let us down before, we shouldn't lose faith in her" Missandei replied; reaching forward and taking Grey Worm's hand in hers.

"I do not mistrust my Queen. It is this place; these people…they are untrusting, suspicious, cold" Grey Worm replied.

"Not Jory and Uma…not Lord Snow, remember Ser Jorah is from here. These Northerners are just like Essosi, there is no such things as good and bad; they are both at times" Missandei smiled as she stroked Grey Worm's hand.

The commander of the Unsullied looked back at Missandei and smiled; saying in a quiet voice "Do they have anyone else?" gesturing to the two sleeping children.

"No, the wars left many orphans. Many children without mother, fathers, family. Jory and Uma are lucky to have each other" She smiled; looking at their peaceful faces.

"Now they have you" he smiled.

"Now they have us…if you want to help me?" Missandei asked.

"…I would like that" Grey Worm smiled before leaning forward and kissing Missandei softly on the lips.

All thoughts of rage and fury had evaporated as he and Missandei did what he thought they would never do. A long process that he wanted to help her through as much as possible, starting a family of sorts with the woman he loved.

He only hoped the coming days would not cut that short.

* * *

"Well…that was certainly…eventful" Jamie said before taking sip of wine from a wineskin.

"You don't say? A secret Targaryen in our midst the whole time…certainly makes my job harder" Tyrion replied before taking the wineskin from his brother and taking a much-needed swig.

"How are going to handle it? Swap your Queen for a King?" Jamie asked.

"…Don't even say it" Tyrion glared at his brother.

"Sorry" Jamie smirked.

"Though I must admit…from all the stories I've heard, an honourable son of Ned Stark does seem like a better pick than a foreigner that crucified nobles in Mereen" Jamie replied.

"Slave masters, not nobles…important distinction. Besides, good rulers can't afford to be push-overs; they have to make hard decisions and stand by them" Tyrion responded before taking another sip.

"I can still remember their screams…her father's victims" Jamie said looking at Tyrion.

"That was different and you know it. Daenerys has a temper of course…but she doesn't enjoy killing people. Besides, rulers like Orys the first, that show too much mercy don't last very long" Tyrion replied.

"Well he certainly doesn't seem to be the type to be that gullible" Jamie replied in earnest; taking the wineskin from Tyrion.

"Only when beside her. Apparently, he was betrayed when commanding the Night's Watch, from what I understand it didn't end well for him" Tyrion replied.

Tyrion still believed in Daenerys; seeing her close to tears in her chambers did nothing to weaken his resolve for her. Yes, Jon Snow had the better claim being the oldest male of their house left, but Tyrion had sworn himself to Daenerys; he had faith in her and the world she wanted to build; besides after so long of seeing shit rulers he wasn't going to pick between two great ones.

Davos' proposition sounded better and better by the moment. The two still obviously loved each other; the way Dany looked at Jon when he stood in the doorway and the way he looked at her.

A marriage between the two would eradicate the need for any backstabbing on either of their accounts; they could join their claims and rule side by side, even Tyrion had to admit they balanced each other quite well. Jon calmed Dany's fire and she made him so much more than the shy reserved and gullible bastard he was.

Together they could strike the perfect balance that no one ruler could reach alone.

But then there was the question of Varys, gods know he would probably have some reason to see this as a bad thing. Probably bring up the Northern Lords again; but sitting outside of the keep and watching the Unsullied and Northmen drink and eat together made many of those doubts wash away.

Over the past few days it became apparent that the Northmen and Unsullied, the Wildlings and the Dothraki had slowly went from borderline enemies to the most bizarre form of brotherhood. The wild and unruly nature of the Wildlings and the Dothraki made them almost mirror images, seeing Bloodriders arm wrestle with Wildlings donned in furs and laughing while downing sour milk was certainly an image Tyrion wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

And seeing circles of mixed Northmen and Unsullied drinking ale, eating stew and share war stories was certainly one for the history books. It was honestly the most human looking the Unsullied had ever been in his memory. A few of the older Northmen who had obviously lost sons and grandsons in the war of five kings had obviously taken a shining to some of the younger Unsullied, young men who never knew their fathers and grew up in chains.

The Northern forces had certainly warmed to the Queen's people, and hopefully by extension her.

Maybe it was time Tyrion began having words with a few of these Northern Lords; then again, he could hardly get them to listen to him alone, he needed someone who could bend their ears towards his voice. Someone they already trusted; someone of the North that trusted him enough to…

Oh…bollocks.

He had tried putting it off for a while, conversing with his…wife?

Gods even thinking that felt wrong.

But when Tyrion looked to ask Jamie for a bit of brotherly advice, he noticed his eyes yet again drawn to the blonde-haired Warrior woman. Tyrion didn't think he had ever seen Jamie look at a woman like that, even Cersei didn't receive looks like that from Jamie.

"How about you? What's on your mind right now?" Tyrion asked.

"Nothing" Jamie replied quickly.

"Oh, really? You think your own brother wouldn't notice?" Tyrion smirked as Jamie gulped nervously.

"Notice what?" Jamie asked back.

"Notice that you are staring at Lady Brienne like she is walking on water" Tyrion smirked.

"She's a fine warrior; honourable, good hearted, skilled…" Jamie replied before Tyrion cut in.

"And quite good looking for a woman her size…but who am I to judge?" Tyrion smirked yet again. If his smirk got any bigger it would have split his face.

"…I have no idea what you…" Jamie started.

"To be fair, there could be worse women to have eyes for"

"She's too tall"

"Never stopped me" Tyrion smirked back.

"Oh, go talk to her for fuck's sake. You faced down a dragon without a second thought, don't tell me you can't go speak to her" Tyrion continued with a shove to Jamie's shoulder.

Jamie could only act on instinct and stand up as his brother watched him with a shit eating smirk before raising his wineskin to him.

Sometimes Jamie really fucking hated his brother.

As Jamie got closer and closer, he could hear training swords louder and louder, Brienne watching as the Squire handled himself well against some younger Northerners. The boy had definitely improved, now no longer completely useless but at least above average in terms of swordsmanship. Still, above average was nowhere near as good as Brienne was.

She had managed to defeat both him and the Hound. Woman or no, she was an amazing warrior; more worthy of being a knight than him, that much was for certain.

"He's improved quite a bit" Jamie smiled as he stood beside Brienne; an awkward second passed before she replied.

"He's alright, still has a lot to learn though" Brienne tilted her head before leading Jamie away.

"I'm sure you'll teach him; you know tricks even I never knew when I was in my prime" Jamie replied as he began to trail along.

"I've been told you'll be commanding the men on the left flank on the first line of fortifications" Jamie continued, trying to make idle conversation.

"I am; it's good ground, it will be hard for the dead to pass the trenches we've already dug"

"Hopefully"

"The rise, it should give us some advantage, if we can keep a tight formation, we should be able to beat them back, if not hold out long enough to put a serious dent in their numbers" Brienne continued.

"Yes, I think you're right. Jon Snow seems to take after his cousin, Robb Stark had a natural affinity for strategy" Jamie remarked.

"What are you doing?" Brienne turned to him, annoyed.

"What?"

"I think you know" Brienne replied just as annoyed as before.

"I really don't" Jamie replied with an arched brow and a confused tone.

"We have never had a conversation last this long without you insulting me, not once" Brienne replied with a fire in her voice.

"You want me to insult you?"

"No!"

"Good!"

The air around the two grew tense; as they stood there; not knowing how to continue this 'conversation' if it could even be called that anymore. Brienne with her hand resting on the hilt of Oathkeeper; things had been simpler back when they knew what they were to each other. When he was prisoner and she his captor, things started to get blurry when Loche took his hand. After a leap into a bear pit, a gift of a sword and armour, a few words in a tent at Riverrun and a few curt words in the Dragonpit.

Jamie and Brienne had no clue what they were to each other?

Friends? Enemies? Allies? Acquaintances? They had no clue. All Jamie knew was why he had come here in the first place; her words to him in the Dragonpit, the constant words of validation she gave him, assuring him he wasn't what they all thought he was.

Kingslayer, Man without Honour, Oathbreaker.

But when Brienne, a paragon of oaths, honour and decency, a truer Knight than he could ever be, told him otherwise. It lit two things within Jamie he had hadn't felt since the King had knighted him in the first place.

Pride and Hope.

"When I told Cersei was coming North to fight in the war, she looked at me as if I grew a second head" Jamie broke the tension by speaking again.

"When she made that vow to send our forces North, I was so sure she was telling the truth. I have known her since the womb, I thought I knew her better than anyone ever could. But after being gone from her for an entire year, I noticed how much she had changed, and how much she continued to change in front of me…" Jamie began to confess himself to Brienne as she listened.

"…She isn't the girl I knew, or even the woman I knew anymore. It's like every time we lost a child a larger piece of her died until there was nothing left but a hunger for power" Jamie shook his head.

"Every time 'we' lost a child?" Brienne questioned knowingly.

Jamie tried his best not to roll his eyes; after this long of the name calling and the shaming, he knew Brienne wouldn't react the same way all the others did. She would be the last person to call him 'sisterfucker' since he hadn't heard her call him Kingslayer for a long time.

"I used to live for Cersei. I used to fight and kill for Cersei, if she wasn't a part of my life everything else was meaningless. I used to be such a cruel man, a heartless excuse for a man, I killed innocent people just to get back to her. But after everything that has transpired, ever since losing…this…" Jamie rose his golden hand up for emphasis.

"…I felt like I've become more of a man than I've ever been, but even then, I don't quite know who this new man is" Jamie finished as he let out a sigh.

"Battles can sometimes reveal who a person really is; and I wager the one we are heading towards will be quite the battle" Brienne offered with a nod of respect.

"I warn you; I don't fight nearly as well as I did on the bridge" Jamie smiled at her.

"To be fair you weren't that impressive back then" Brienne smiled back.

**BWAAAAARM!**

"RIDERS APPROACHING!" a voice shouted and all eyes turned to the main gates. Jamie and Brienne ran towards the hates where the new arrivals would gather to be greeted. Stark Bannermen leapt to attention as archers stood at the walls with caution; Unsullied grabbed their spears and shields and stood to attention as a few men on heavily armoured horses rode through the gates.

Jamie immediately recognised the banner they carried, he recognised the colours they wore and he definitely recognised the heavily armoured knight leading them.

The black and white striped boar of House Crakehall.

Riding astride a huge brown, armoured stallion; in full head to toe plate armour wrapped with a black and white striped sash across his chest that turned into a shoulder cape. An armet helmet adorned with boar tusks and a large black plume of horse hair hanging from the back. His large gauntleted hands holding tight the reigns of his beast as he looked around the courtyard and met eyes with the golden handed lion himself.

"Ser Jamie!" he greeted in a loud and booming voice.

"…Ser Lyle?" Jamie asked as he and Brienne moved closer.

The Stronboar dismounted his steed; the metal plates of his armour clanking as his sabatons met cold ground. He reached up and took off his helmet; revealing his huge mane of black locks, his majestic handlebar moustache and the many battle scars that adorned his face.

The other mounted Crakehall men also wore full suits of plate armour, though not as ornate as their Lord's. Their horses just as large and healthy as Lyle's steed; with well defined muscle tones, luscious manes and hooves that made the ground shake beneath them.

The lands around Crakehall were vast fields, perfect for rearing and breeding horses; in fact, most horses in the Westerlands came from the lands around Crakehall and their house knew how to fight from horseback like no other.

If the sigil of House Crakehall were not a boar, it would have been a stallion.

Ser Lyle handed his helm to the Squire that quickly attended him before he strode towards Jamie and wrapped his arms around the shorter man. A booming laugh filled the courtyard as for the first time since arriving in the North, someone other than Tyrion seemed happy with his presence. The other Crakehall men didn't dismount as they noticed the scowls and distrustful looks from the Northerners.

Scars from the war of five kings that had yet to heal.

"Ser Jamie! I'm glad to see they haven't killed you yet. It appears we arrived just in time" Lyle laughed as he released Jamie from the embrace.

"Not that I'm not happy to see you Ser Lyle…I thought my sister commanded all the southern armies to stay in the south" Jamie replied.

Lyle answered that question when he frowned and spat on the floor at the mention of Cersei's name.

"With all respect Ser Jamie; your cruel bitch of a sister is not our Queen anymore, not after what she has done" Lyle replied with anger in his voice. While Jamie understood that Crakehall men were easy to temper; they were loyal to a fault, so hearing that the Crakehalls had turned their backs on Cersei was surprising to say the least.

"What happened?" Jamie asked.

"You…you haven't heard? I suppose the ravens take longer to get here during winter" Lyle replied with a sigh.

"What happened, Lyle?" Jamie asked again; firmer this time.

"My father, Lord Lefford and many other Westerlands lords spoke out against her bringing Essosi Mercenaries to our shores; they asked why we were heading North to join you…she had them all executed" Lyle replied.

"…I'm…I'm sorry Lyle. Your father, he was…a good man" Jamie put a hand on Lyle's armoured shoulder. The Strongboar smiled sadly at Jamie before continuing.

"She has gone mad Ser Jamie. The only ones she listens to are her hand, and that sea rat posing as a king. Everyone else is an enemy to her; the people down south grow more restless by the day and the majority of Westerland houses have turned their backs on her; choosing to stay and defend their homes rather than defend the capital" Lyle continued.

"Then why are you here?" Jamie asked.

"You made a pledge to come North to fight with the Dragon Queen and her Wolf Lord. We may not be many, only 3000 strong…but we will fight beside you as we have for many years' Ser Jamie" Lyle placed an armoured gauntlet on Jamie's shoulder with a strong nod.

Jamie was touched by the faith the Crakehall knight had shown in him; and the look of pride was not lost on Brienne who smiled warmly seeing Jamie be treated with respect by a fellow knight. Jamie was a good man deep down; and it didn't hurt that he had inadvertently brought 3000 fighting men with him for the great war against the dead.

"You want to bend the knee to them?" Jamie asked.

"Cersei is not our Queen any longer. But I wish to measure the character of the Targaryen queen before I go making any vows" Lyle smirked.

"I'm sure Queen Daenerys and Lord Jon will be glad to have you with us…although…" Jamie said leaning in close to Lyle.

"There have been some recent developments that sort of…complicate things" Jamie said; earning a raised brow from Lyle.

* * *

In a different place; in a different time, a single man stood in his chambers, piling on layers of armour onto his form. The howling winds just outside blew fiercely as the attached his steel vambraces. The man had the striking facial features of a Northman, a single scar running down his left eye. His eyes were a dark grey, almost black in colour with all the fierceness of a Wolf.

The doors to the chamber opened and in stepped a woman, a beauty of long hair that glimmered in the firelight like the brightest stars.

"You don't have to do this" she said; her voice trembling as she spoke.

"I have to…no one else can" he replied gruffly as he finished attaching his vambraces.

"Please, Alden let someone else go. Someone else, anyone else, please" she begged as she stepped closer to the hearth. The beautiful silver and grey lining of her dress shimmering in the firelight as she lay her hands on his breastplate.

She looked into his eyes. The dark grey meeting a sparkling violet as he reached up and caressed her soft check. Resisting the urge to run his hands through her silver locks he tore his eyes away from her and to the greatsword laying on the nearby table.

"You know this must be done…I'm the only one that can put a stop to this whole thing" the man named Alden replied as he picked up the sheathed greatsword and withdrew the blade to reveal the rippling patterns across its edge.

In the corner of the room stood Bran, watching silently as the man gazed upon the ancestral greatsword of House Stark. The sword that Eddard Stark wielded in battle at the siege of Pyke, the very sword that took his head, that Tywin Lannister had melted down to forge Oathkeeper and Widow's wail.

Ice.

"What about Brandon? You want me to explain to him why he doesn't have a father? He is just a baby, he needs you" she pleaded with tears in her eyes.

"No…tell him his father did what was necessary to keep future generations alive. He has the blood of wolves and dragons within him…so will the one to end it once and for all" Alden said as he turned and cupped her face in his hands.

"Please…don't go…don't leave me" she begged as tears began to fall down her cheeks. Alden wiped the tears as they fell with his thumbs as he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together.

"No matter what happens…no matter if I win or lose…if I live or die…even if I never see you again, know this…I will always be yours, and you will always be mine" Alden leaned in so close that their lips were barely a breath away.

"I love you Alden" her voice trembled.

"And I love you, Rhaella" Alden whispered, teary eyed as his lips met hers in a passionate and loving goodbye.

Bran watched in the corner, watching the ghosts of the past say their sorrowful and tearful goodbyes to one another. Alden Stark, the original Patriarch of the Starks, and Rhaella Targaryen, an ancient and long forgotten ancestor of the Targaryen dragon lords.

The original song of Ice and Fire.

As Bran watched Alden pick up Ice from the table and buckle it around his back; he could see flashes of the future and past intertwining, so alike yet so different. Alden's form replaced with Jon's; Rhaella's replaced with Daenerys' Ice replaced with Longclaw.

But the differences showed their head again as Alden continued to speak against his love's lips.

"Remember me…as I was…my love" he whispered as a single tear dropped down his cheek.

"…I will remember; my fierce Direwolf…the world will remember" Rhaella whispered as she wiped Alden's single tear from his face.

Bran saw the setting around him change many things around him shifting and morphing into different shapes that he couldn't differentiate between. Little flashes of things he had both seen and never seen before. Until one image snapped him out of his visions; an image that was becoming more and more terrifying each time he saw it.

The Night King lunging toward him with one outstretched hand and a scowl of fury on his face.

Bran gasped in shock; the only times he ever even showed a flicker of emotions these days, the image of the icy lord of death himself lunging towards him instilling fear. He was once again sitting underneath the Heart Tree; the cold wind and falling snow peppering the ground beneath him. Even in his visions he wasn't safe, the icy mark upon his arm began to sting as Bran looked upon it. Every time he saw something like that vision of Alden Stark, of anything that could even loosely be considered threatening to the Night King, the Lord of the White Walkers would snap him out of it.

"Does it still hurt?" a soft voice asked.

"Hello Meera" Bran greeted without even looking at her; his eyes still fixed on the mark on his arm.

"…That's it? 'Hello Meera'? After everything I did for you, everything I sacrificed, all you can do upon seeing me again is say hello?" Meera asked with eyes glaring at Bran.

The time apart hadn't done her much good, without Jojen, without Hodor or Summer or Rickon or even Orsha, she had welled in her pain alone. Her father Howland tried to console her; tell her that all her pain was for a reason; that Jojen knew what he was doing. But that didn't stop the pain at all, in fact it made it all worse. Knowing that her brother, her friends had died simply to rob Bran of his identity, of his emotions, of his soul.

To replace him with the husk of a seer that was sitting in front of her.

They all died for this?

The time had done nothing but harden her; she knew from Jojen that a war was coming, and if she and the men of house Reed didn't fight now, then they deserved for the Night King to take them. She had seen the scale of his powers, the Children of the Forest were powerless to stop him, the last Three eyed Raven were powerless to stop him, and if not for the intervention of Benjen Stark then she and Bran would never have made it back south of the Wall.

She had sworn an oath to protect Bran; and she would continue to uphold it, even if the thing that called itself Bran Stark was a mere shadow of the young Lord that she had sworn herself to. Jojen didn't give up, so neither would she.

"I'm sorry, for what ha…"

"I don't care if you are sorry. I doubt if you are genuinely sorry anyway or if you are just saying it to get me to leave" Meera walked around Bran to look him in the eye. Even if he didn't look up to make eye contact with her, she wasn't going to speak to his back.

"I swore to Brandon Stark that I would protect him on his journey. My brother and I swore to Bronze and Iron, to Earth and Water and to Ice and Fire that we would take his commands to the death and pledge our services to him…you may no longer be Brandon Stark, but you wear his face…and that does not absolve me from my oath" Meera spoke glaring at the Three Eyed Raven.

"You don't have to stay Meera" Bran replied monotoned.

"I don't…but I will, whether you like it or not" she replied before turning and walking away. But before the last living child of Howland Reed left the Godswood she turned and looked at Bran one last time.

"If you are still in there Bran, if there is anything left of you in that body…then I'm sorry too" she said; holding back her tears before leaving the silent Greenseer with his thoughts.

* * *

The crunching of snow underfoot was something Tyrion found particularly comforting in situations such as the one he found himself in. Walking to one's former wife, technicalities withstanding, on the eve of an apocalyptic war against the legions of the undead in the aftermath of a revelation concerning the true heir of the Iron Throne, delivered by the mighty Dragon Queen, was not a situation he saw himself being in many years ago.

The red-haired Northern beauty in question was waiting above in the rafters, watching as Crakehall men dismounted their horses and began retrieving dragonglass weaponry. It was a good thing Gendry and the other smiths were somewhat rationing the dragonglass at their disposal; until the army of the dead were defeated it was a precious commodity.

"It seems your brother did something right" Sansa spoke without looking at Tyrion. The Dwarf of Casterly Rock smiled slightly before slowly approaching her; his eyes still looking at the fully armoured Crakehall men going about their business.

"3000 men of house Crakehall. 2000 heavy mounted and 1000 heavy infantry" Tyrion announced as he stepped forward; Sansa smiling slightly as she turned to look at Tyrion.

"Will more come?" Sansa asked.

"I doubt it…the men we have now are as much as we will have, let's just hope it will be enough" Tyrion sighed.

"I remember having this very conversation with Jon before the battle with the Boltons. I remember that simply waiting was still an option…waiting for forces I knew would arrive, forces I didn't tell Jon about that could have saved Rickon" Sansa's face contorted to one of pain.

"I'm sorry…about your brother" Tyrion apologized with a heavy heart.

"It's my fault he died…if I had just told Jon about the Knights of the Vale…"

"You couldn't see the future, no decision there would have been without its flaws. Besides from what I heard; Ramsey Bolton was about as good a person as Joffrey" Tyrion cut Sansa off; his little comparison bringing a smile to her face.

"The Last time we spoke was at his wedding" Sansa sniffed.

"A dull and miserable affair if I recall" Tyrion sighed.

"It had it's moments" Sansa smirked back knowingly.

"I'm sorry for leaving you like that" she continued after a deep breath.

"It was hard explaining why my wife left moments after the King's murder…fun…but hard" Tyrion smiled back at her, remembering the verbal flaying he gave to the court during his trial.

"Still…we seemed to both escape quite fine" Sansa smiled back.

"Indeed, we did" Tyrion returned her smile.

"Why did you believe her…if you don't mind me asking?" Sansa asked.

"Who?"

"Cersei…about sending her armies North"

"…She's always been a monster, ever since she was a child. Always treated me like filth that didn't deserve to live…but all her life she had one redeeming trait; she loved her children…" Tyrion explained.

Sansa remembered Cersei telling her all the time during her stay in King's Landing, that the one thing she would treasure from a marriage to Joffrey would be the children she would have. In a sick and twisted way, from Cersei's point of view, it made sense; after all the only thing Cersei treasured from her marriage with Robert was her children. Even if they weren't Robert's offspring.

"…last I saw her she was pregnant. I thought after seeing the Wight in the dragon pit she would realize her child's life meant more than the Throne or any petty grudges with me or Daenerys…I suppose I was wrong; she is too far gone to help now" Tyrion finished his explanation.

"She tricked you?" Sansa stated.

"No…one of the flaws of clever men…we can sometimes overestimate our cleverness; and my love for family has caused me no end of trouble now Daenerys won't listen to me regarding them" Tyrion sighed.

"Can you really blame her?" Sansa asked.

"No…but sometimes I feel that the…complicated history between our families will never heal" Tyrion sighed once again.

"Complicated Family history…with Starks, Targaryens and Lannisters all in the same keep, untied against a common threat…ironic isn't it?" Sansa asked.

"Yes, now we are here; in your family's ancestral home…as the Lady of Winterfell and the Hand of the Queen, strange how life turns out isn't it?" Tyrion smiled.

"You could have picked worse in terms of Queens" Sansa smiled back.

"Oh…this is new" Tyrion replied with a surprised tone.

"I've decided to give her a chance, after that little bit of theatre in the Main Hall she isn't what I thought she was. A manipulator or a tyrant wouldn't do what she did…so I'll help however I can" Sansa continued after another deep breath.

"She'll be glad to hear it…though; I must ask. What about your brother?" Tyrion asked.

"I'm surprised you didn't say 'cousin' as most people would, knowing the truth" Sansa replied just as quickly.

"Most people aren't me" Tyrion replied warmly.

"What Jon wants is what is important to me. He is family; a part of the pack, and a pack protects its own. If Jon wants to become king, we'll support him, if he wants to give it to Daenerys, we will support him…if he wants to share it with her…I think you know which he will choose" Sansa replied with a smile.

"They do make it rather obvious, don't they?" Tyrion chuckled.

"Just a bit" Sansa chuckled back.

"Lady Stark" a nearby guard announced their presence.

"Yes?" Sansa asked.

"There is someone asking for you in the main hall" he replied.

Sansa arched her brow in confusion; she wasn't expecting anymore forces arriving to assist them in the defence of Winterfell. The Crakehall men shouldn't have any interest in speaking to her as she had no connections to the Westerlands except Lord Tyrion. Both she and the Hand of Daenerys walked through the halls at a brisk pace, their conversation interrupted by whoever this interrupter was.

However, when Sansa and Tyrion arrived in the great hall, they came face to face with none other than Theon Greyjoy and 15 Ironborn Reavers all armed and armoured. Theon met eyes with Sansa and they could both barely breath, the last time Sansa had seen Theon he was still that husk of a person; shrouded in rags and broken by Ramsey Bolton.

Now, he looked like Theon Greyjoy again.

"Theon" Sansa almost gasped as she met eyes with the man who saved her life.

Theon noticeably smiled at seeing Sansa again before he turned to Tyrion and asked "The Queen?"

"She is preoccupied at the moment; any news for her I can relay back to her" Tyrion replied.

"My sister Yara is free; she only has a handful of ships and she can't sail them here, so she has gone to retake the Iron Islands in the Queen's name" Theon replied quickly.

"But then, why aren't you with her?" Tyrion asked as Theon's eyes turned back to Sansa.

"I want to fight for Winterfell Lady Sansa, if would have me" he said with utter surety in his voice.

Sansa couldn't take the tension anymore as her legs carried her towards Theon; her arms wrapping around him in a warm embrace; tears threatening to drop from their reunion. Theon squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around Sansa just as warmly. He had once been like a brother to her and the Starks, he wanted to be one of them for so long and now he was home again; wrapped in the arms of a woman he once saw as a sister in all but name and blood.

Tyrion smiled warmly at the sight of this touching reunion; glad to see Sansa find some semblance of happiness in the halls of Winterfell once again. What was left of her family back together in the halls of their forefathers.

Sansa was simply grateful to see him again; that he had returned to where he had belonged, no longer a broken man incapable of stringing a sentence together without trembling or looking down in fear. He was the Theon that had saved her from Ramsey's clutches, that threw Miranda from the battlements in defence of her life. This was the Theon she considered a brother.

And he was finally home.

**YAAAAY THEON'S BACK AND THE BOARS HAVE JOINED THE FIGHT! I hope you guys all enjoyed that sequence of events, and don't worry, plenty of Jon and Dany content next chapter I promise! **

**As for that last scene with Sansa and Theon…Yeah, I wanted to change that so it's Tyrion there instead of Dany, because let's be honest D&D made that scene more about "SEE HOW LONELY DANY IS!? ISN'T SANSA SO MUCH BETTER THEN SHE IS!? LOOK HOW FUCKING SUBTLE WE ARE! WE TOTALLY AREN'T PICKING SIDES WITH OUR CHARACTERS IN ANY WAY!" rather than Sansa and Theon actually reuniting. So yeah…yet again, D&D Can choke on an entire gaggle of dicks!**

**Next chapter will be more preparations, I know a lot of preparations, right? But I want t build this fucking tension guys, once the shit hits the fan, we won't have a lot of time for scenes like this; so, enjoy them ok?**

**AS ALWAYS leave lengthy reviews, PM me any questions or queries you have, let me know what you thought and as always keep showing me the support you deem worthy of me. You guys help me keep writing. **

**DAKKAMAN777 signing out.**


	10. A Promise

**Sorry for the longer wait everyone, a little mixture of writer's block, Hayfever and personal life can screw around with writing up new chapters. Hopefully this one will please along with the next chapter. The way things are looking it will be this chapter, maybe one or two more and then we will finally be at the battle for Winterfell. As for this being a long build-up, I should hope so…I do want the tension to be so thick you could cut it with a knife. **

**I do want to actually satisfy my readers with something D&D flat out refused to give. A satisfying ending to the story of Ice and Fire. Also, as always, I thank you for the continued support, the views the reviews, everything…you guys have no idea how much this story and your subsequent support have helped me get over that shite ending.**

**Now, enough of me blabbing and let's get on with the show! Without further ado**

**Chapter 10: A Promise**

Steel met steel in a furious clash; the clang of metal impacting upon metal echoing through the courtyard. Many of the Northern, Southern and Essosi forces were gathered and all looked wide eyed as the two men in question sparred.

Sandor Clegane, the Hound. Widely accepted as one of the greatest fighters alive, a man that even Jamie would admit he would have trouble with in his prime. Wielding a blunt training longsword with sweat dripping from his forehead. His opponent?

Jon Snow, the recently revealed heir to the Iron Throne.

Sandor wanted to see just how good the Lord of Winterfell was with a sword; and so far, he was not disappointed.

In fact, he was shocked to the core just how good the Bastard Lord was.

Jon fought with a grace and agility that Sandor rarely saw in his opponents, he was quick and fast and knew when to save his strength and stamina; both of which he had an abundance of. Of course, in the brute strength department Sandor had barely any equals, the only ones coming to mind being his brother Gregor and Lyle Crakhall; both of which he beat in speed.

But Jon's strength was a different type of strength. He didn't use his strength the same way Sandor did; taking quick jabs and swings to throw his opponent off balance and create new openings in their defences.

Sandor was also surprised by the ferocity Jon fought with; very few men could hold a candle to the Hound's skill with a blade, and even fewer could match his ferocity. But the fire in Jon's eyes was not the ferocity of a Hound, nor even the ferocity of a Wolf.

He fought with the ferocity of a Dragon.

All the elite fighters gathered watched intently; fascinated with how Jon fought. His fighting style a perfect mix of honed skill and improvisation. Jamie had to admit; the way Jon handled his blade reminded him of a younger Barristan Selmy, and even Arthur Dayne with the way his sword seemed to become part of him.

It was beautiful in a way.

Brienne watched and admired the young Wolf's footwork and the way he didn't waste movements, Jorah watched with envy at the insane amount of Stamina he moved with. Arya smiled; impressed with his water-like movements. Grey Worm nodded to himself with approval at the power behind Jon's strikes. Qhono watched with a glare as he realized the skill behind Jon's swordplay and the agility, he showed in evading the Hound's strikes. Tormund smiled with pride at Jon's improvised attacks, no doubt picked up from his time with the Free Folk.

But up in the rafters; her hands on the railings and Ghost sat at her side; Daenerys watched with awe at the skill of the man she loved. Dany had to admit, seeing the ferocity with how Jon handled his blade, with how he moved with grace and how his well-defined and toned physique moved beneath his leather gambeson.

It lit a different sort of fire within the Dragon Queen.

"He is quite good with blade, is he not your grace?" Missandei asked Daenerys from beside her.

"He is…quite spectacular" Dany smiled down as Jon moved with a grace few Knights could muster.

"Lord Snow is the best swordsman in the North" the young girl Uma spoke out from beside Missandei.

Dany had met the two young orphans earlier today; and needless to say, she was delighted to meet them. Jory and Uma were such sweet and lovable little ones; she was glad to see they had taken to Missandei so well, to the point where it seemed they looked up to her like an adoptive mother of sorts. Uma tended to stick close to Missandei as she was now; wrapped snuggly in layers of furs and side up against the translator.

While Jory seemed to stick closer to Grey Worm as he was right now; standing on the edges of the training grounds and watching Jon's match with Sandor.

"That he is Lady Uma" Dany smiled sweetly at the little girl; rubbing a palm on Ghost's head as he seemed to silently agree.

"FUCK!" Sandor cursed as Jon ducked under one swing and swept his legs from under him. The Hound wasn't expecting Jon to take advantage in the difference of their size. The Hound met the ground with a loud thud and before he knew it; his training sword was kicked away and a training sword was pointed in his face.

"Do you yield?" Jon asked between pants.

"…Yield…fucking hells, I yield" Sandor growled annoyed as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Many of the Northerners, Essosi and even a couple of Southerners began clapping at the display Jon had just shown them. Jorah and Brienne clapped with impressed smiles, Tormund pounded his chest and hooted at the top of his lungs as did many of the Free Folk.

Daenerys couldn't help but smile and clap along at Jon's little display.

"Who the fuck taught you to fight like that?" Sandor asked; panting as he brushed the snow from his armour.

"A lot of different people" Jon replied as he caught his breath.

Ser Roderick wasn't the only battle mentor that Jon had in his life, Robb and Theon had shown him how to fight by sparring with him in his youth, Grenn, Pyp and Ser Alister had shown him other ways of fighting. The Halfhand had taught him a few tricks the hard way in his final fight before his death at Jon's hand. Tormund gave him a few improvisation pointers, as did Styr and Tanner in their own ways before Jon did them in.

Jon adapted very well, and with every new opponent he grew stronger in his skill and knowledge in fighting. He was no longer the green boy sent off to live out his days on the wall; he was battle hardened and at such a young age was one of the greatest fighters alive.

He was also the only man living who had killed a Magnar of the Thenns and 2 White Walkers in single combat.

A man like that had no shortage of skill with a Blade. All around he was probably the best fighter amongst all those gathered. Beric, Bronn, Jorah and Benjen were great fighters but they were all past their prime; Brienne had a great mixture of skill, strength and speed but she had limitations in terms of improvising, Arya was quick and agile but she didn't have the raw strength to back it up, Gendry was strong but lacked experience, Jamie was no longer even half the fighter he used to be, Lyle was as strong and powerful as the Hound but lacked his speed and ferocity.

And Jon had just shown his skill against the Hound.

"ALL RIGHT YOU LAZY FUCKERS! GET BACK TO WORK!" Bronn shouted; cupping his hands to amplify his voice. The men realizing the show was over went back to their duties of war preparations; the army of the dead would arrive any day now and they needed every second to get things ready.

Looking up at the rafters and making eye contact with the Dragon Queen; Jon smiled softly as he handed the training sword to one of the young men waiting for their turn in the sparring ring. Daenerys smiled softly back at Jon and couldn't help but feel her heart warm at the way he still looked at her. Even after everything that had transpired between them, Jon and Daenerys still loved each other with a fiery passion.

When Missandei whispered a few words into Daenerys' ear and she looked back at him; Jon could tell that she had Queenly matters to attend to, besides they would have some time to themselves later. Jon retrieved his sword-belt and put his cloak back on before going to the battlements to make sure the trenches were being kept up to standards.

Seeing the Unsullied and Northmen work side by side certainly put a smile on Jon's face, things were still tense between him and the Northern lords after Dany's little revelation in the main hall, but it was good to see that the news didn't change how the men looked at him. If anything, they seemed to admire him more, Rhaegar's reputation as a rapist and kidnapper now already fading into distant memory with the revelation, he had a trueborn son with the She-Wolf of Winterfell who loved him in return.

Two parents he never knew; it certainly made Jon feel more alone and abandoned than one parent he never knew.

"The access snow from the trenches should make it harder for the Wights to keep their formation, slow them down and make them easy targets" Jamie said as he approached from Jon's left.

"That's good…we need every advantage we can get" Jon replied quickly, not exactly thrilled at having to have a conversation with Jamie Lannister of all people.

"You look a lot like him you know" Jamie said with a nostalgic look in his eye.

"Like who?" Jon asked with a huff; not feeling exactly excited to be starting a conversation with Jamie Lannister of all people.

"Rhaegar" Jamie replied with a smirk.

"He may not have been a Northerner; but he could certainly brood with the best of them" Jamie continued; now looking out at the men as he stood beside Jon.

"You know…when I first heard Daenerys say that in the halls, I swore she was lying or had been fed a lie…but looking at you now, knowing who your father and mother were…it's obvious" Jamie continued.

"How is it obvious?" Jon asked.

"You may have the hair and eyes of a Stark…but there are little things about him that you definitely inherited. Little looks, flickers of a barely contained anger; now that I know he was your father…you certainly look like him…a shave and a change in hair colour you would look like a proper Targaryen" Jamie replied; answering Jon's question.

"…You knew him?" Jon asked after a long pause.

"I did" Jamie replied.

"…What…what was he like?" Jon asked.

"Strong, noble, fierce, all the shit the song writers and poets love. But…sad in his own way; he was a good man; I won't lie about that like so many other did. Definitely not a man capable of raping a woman, yet alone someone he always seemed to carry an affection for" Jamie explained.

"Why are you telling me this?" Jon asked; now turning to look at Jamie.

"Don't know…perhaps I want to make peace with his child before I see him again, perhaps I'm feeling a bit sentimental, maybe for some other reason…does it matter?" Jamie asked.

"No, I suppose not" Jon replied before looking out to men again.

His thoughts wandered to Rhaegar, the father he never had; the man he had never knew as anything but the man who kidnapped his aunt, now revealed to be his father and his aunt revealed to be his mother. It was enough to make him question a great number of things; like what kind of people were they? Ned Stark hadn't spoken about his sister to his children, Jon least of all; and now he knew why.

The closest Jon would ever get to his parents would be stories and descriptions of the people that knew them in life, of which there were not many.

"You fight very well; much better than I did at that age. Barristan and Arthur would have loved to meet you; that much I can say" Jamie continued.

"I still remember the smug look on your face when we first met" Jon retorted; looking at Jamie, their eyes meeting.

"I remember the smug way you waved me off to the wall, the smirk on your face when you took my hand and pulled me in…I believe it was the hand you are missing now" Jon turned to face Jamie.

"I remember wanting to hit you so hard it ruined that smug face of yours…but I knew I would lose my hand if I was lucky…you the brother of the Queen and me just a Bastard boy off to live out his days at the wall. Even then I knew you would have cleaved me in two before I even touched you…how times have changed eh?" Jon asked as Jamie took it all in.

The last time he and Jon spoke was a long time ago, a different life to many, ancient history by now to some. Back when Jamie still had two hands and didn't care about what his actions wrought, back when Jon had about as much worth as a back-alley whore.

"I'm not that same man anymore" Jamie replied after taking a deep breath.

"I know…I can tell. Why did you come to help us? Knowing you may have ended up on the executioners block?" Jon asked.

"I'll be honest, I didn't come North because of some unknown loyalty to the Targaryens, I didn't come to hope for reward from you or your Queen…I came because it was the right thing to do. The very same reason I killed her father" Jamie looked over to the rafters were Daenerys was deep in conversation with Missandei.

"She knows what her father was…I can promise you she isn't him" Jon replied as he looked over to Daenerys and couldn't help but smile at her ever-present beauty.

"You love her?" Jamie asked; his question more a statement than anything.

"…I do…there any problem with that?" Jon asked back; a hint of dragon fire in his voice.

"No…I'm the last person to judge another man on who he can and cannot love. For one you are both Targaryens and two, we can't choose who we fall in love with" Jamie replied with a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"We still need time to adjust, but fate has chosen to limit that time" Jon sighed as he turned back to watching over the rafters.

"Indeed…two days now is it? Or was it three?" Jamie asked.

"Does it matter? The Night King could be upon us tonight if he rode his dragon full speed, but then again he does seem to be taking his time" Jon replied.

"If he is anything of a strategist at all…he will be preparing his forces for an assault. Organizing them, outfitting them, preparing to destroy us with everything he has. 500,000…I don't think an army of that size has ever even been conceived before" Jamie replied.

"Well…it's not just Humans and Giants in his army from what Tormund has said" Jon replied.

A moment of silence between the two passed as Jon and Jamie contemplated the situation that lay before them, both Military commanders with much experience, one with more than the other but regardless. Jon had done nothing but fight since leaving Winterfell for the wall all those years ago, and Jamie had nothing but time to think since his defeat at Whispering Wood.

Plenty of mistakes to learn from.

"For all it's worth, I'm glad you are with us Lannister" Jon spoke quietly; earning a raised brow and smirk from Jamie.

"Are you really?" Jamie asked.

"I am…just don't tell Daenerys I said that; she still doesn't quite trust you" he smiled as the unlikely two shared a short laugh.

* * *

"Don't keep your feet too far apart!" Jorah instructed as he shoved his opponent backwards.

"And remember to keep your balance. These things won't hold back, they don't have fear of anything…you won't be able to fight them when you are flat on your back!" Jorah yelled as the Northmen gathered around him.

"Giantsbane…come over here and show them" Jorah waved his arm. Tormund smirked as he pranced in front of the Northmen with a big old grin on his face; his eyes wandered and met Brienne's.

The eye roll she gave in response to his waggling eyebrows was apparent to everyone but The Wildling fighter. Jorah knew how brutish Tormund could be; it was one of his best traits as a fighter. Men as ferocious as Tormund tended to last longer in bloodbaths than usual men, beyond the wall Tormund fought like a madman, snarling and hacking away at wights before they even had a chance to attack back.

He was the closest thing he had to a Wight right now, as Wildlings tended to go all out when they fought.

"Tormund, if you would please…show these men how a wight would bring them down" Jorah said as he stepped aside. Tormund picked up a blunted training blade and grinned at the first Northman that stood forward.

'_little twat still has his mother's milk on his lip'_ Tormund thought as he began circling him like a shark.

The Northman wasn't even given a sign of Tormund's attack when the Wildling struck the sword from his grip and tackled him to the ground with a powerful shoulder tackle. Tormund was on the lad before he knew what hit him. Training sword pointed at his clavicle as the young lad panted in terror; the sight of a huge Red headed Wildling over you with a blade at your neck was not a pleasant one that any Northerner wanted to experience.

When Tormund heard a few chuckles, he looked up at the other Northerners with wild eyes.

"You fuckers think this is a joke! You think this is funny?"

"The fuckers that are coming are worse than me…they won't even kill you quick…they rip you to shreds like a Shadowcat playing with its food" Tormund growled, making some of the younger Northmen flinch.

"And you…" Tormund glared at the young Northerner on the floor.

"…you keep a firm grip on your sword, cuz those fuckers won't let you pick it up again" Tormund grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him onto his feet.

"YOU SOUTHERN TWATS HAD BETTER KEEP YOUR HEADS ON STRAIGHT! CUZ THOSE FUCKERS WILL GUT YOU ALIVE AND EVERYONE YOU'VE EVER KNOWN! JUST LIKE THEY DID AT HARDOME…95,000 MEN, WOMEN AND CHILDREN ALL DEAD" Tormund snarled at the Northerners as his words sank in.

"Hardhome was almost the end of the Free Folk…if we lose here, we are all fucked" Tormund snarled one last time before stepping away. Jorah stepping back into his place calmly as he turned to the Northerners.

"Well I believe that makes things clear enough for you…let's continue" Jorah said as he waved another Northern lad closer.

Samwell watched from the rafters; Jorah's actions and attitude greatly reminding him of Lord Commander Mormont, he was certainly his father's son. And seeing the ginger Wildling in action made Sam realize why Jon liked him so much; he took what it meant to be a Northerner to the next level.

"What are you looking at Sam?" Gilly asked as she laid a hand on the arm of the former Maester in training.

"Just watching some of the men train, it's a historical moment Gilly. For the first time in history, Northerners, Southerners, Dothraki, Unsullied and Wildlings are fighting together. And with two full grown dragons flying above Winterfell…If someone doesn't record this it would be a great shame" Sam replied, already taking the sights to memory.

"Plan on writing a book on everything?" Gilly smiled as she looped an arm around Sam's.

"Why not? The coming days will be the most important in history if we manage to survive" Sam replied; Gilly pulled a frown and elbowed him in the arm.

"Oh, sorry…when we manage to survive"

"Much better" Gilly smiled.

"I think we're fucked" Edd chipped in from behind.

"Well calling you fucked wouldn't strictly be accurate" Sam smirked.

"Oh, look at you…Samwell Tarly growing a set of balls…it really is the end of the fucking world" Edd sighed as he proceeded to walk away.

Gilly only chuckled as she leaned into Sam's side warmly, Little Sam was nice and cosy in her arms; the blonde-haired little lad growing bigger every day, pretty soon he would be saying his first words. God's know Sam didn't want his son's first words to be influenced by The Hound or Tormund that much was for sure.

His thoughts were with the recent events; when Daenerys first told him of what she did to his father and Dickon he was sure she was a monster, another blood hungry Targaryen that simply killed those that stood in her ways, a merciless monarch just like her father. But when he saw her trying to comfort Jon when his parentage was revealed, when she told everyone the truth of who he really was in the great hall.

Seeing how Jon defended her with everything he had.

Sam was having serious doubts. She couldn't be like her father; she cared for Jon and didn't want to see him hurt. The passion in her voice when she tried to comfort him, after he and Bran had almost broken him, the tears in her eyes for the pain he was feeling, the shaking of her voice, the way Ghost always trailed besides her and seemed to be ever protective of her. Ghost was never one to defend those he didn't trust, and strangely enough Sam knew how good a judge of character Ghost was.

It was like the Direwolf could sense if a person was good or not.

Sam always knew his own father was as far from a good man as a man could get. Dickon, his little brother didn't deserve to burn, but he chose to stand beside their father in the end. Sam knew how the world was seldom fair, how it was seldom black and white.

As he looked over at Daenerys Targaryen across the courtyard; talking to the commander of her Dothraki, gigantic Direwolf at her side. It was in this moment that Samwell Tarly questioned what he thought he knew about the Targaryen Queen.

* * *

"Be sure they have all had their Arakhs coated Qhono, we cannot afford anyone not fighting at their best" Dany told the Dothraki commander in their native tongue.

"It will be done Blood of my Blood" Qhono pounded a fist against his chest before leaving to do what was needed.

As Daenerys walked along the battlements; Ghost at her side and the men around her working hard to prepare for the coming siege she wondered what would come if they somehow survived? What would transpire once the Army of the Dead had been defeated? One answer came to mind and it involved her on the Iron Throne with a very handsome Northman beside her.

"Something I should know?" Jon asked as he approached Daenerys.

"Just making sure the men are all armed properly. We can't afford any mistakes at this point, can't we?"

"That we cannot your grace" Jon smiled as he offered his arm to Daenerys which she gladly looped her arm around.

"How are you this Morning?" Jon asked.

"Better; thank you for asking" Daenerys replied with a bright smile. Yet again last night they spent silently comforting each other in a warm embrace; not letting the world or its harshness separate them. They knew what they were to each other and by the many looks they were being given by Northerners and Southerners alike it seems they were not the only ones.

A blind man could see the affection the two monarchs had developed for each other. Then again Jon was technically not a King in the same way Daenerys wouldn't be the Queen until she sat on the throne. Their titles were in large dispute, as Jon's claim to the throne was greater than Dany's, but everyone present still referred to them both by 'your grace' whether Jon corrected them or not.

Jon had never wanted to be a king, but he would gladly let it slide if it meant he could be with Dany. The way Lord Howland had referred to them as 'My King' and 'My Queen' upon his arrival at Winterfell gave him hope, maybe everyone had accepted that as Targaryens that blood mixing between them was perfectly acceptable.

Then again what houses didn't mix blood from time to time? Afterall, it was Jon's grandfather Rickard Stark who had married his own cousin, Tyrion's father Tywin was married to his own Cousin. It wasn't as uncommon as one would think; and having been given a few days to let it sink in, Jon had stopped caring about their shared blood.

"I see your bodyguard is still watching over you" Jon smiled as he looked over at Ghost.

"He's been very helpful, haven't you boy?" Dany ran a soft hand over Ghost's head; an action the Direwolf revelled in.

Jon smiled at how loyal Ghost had grown towards Daenerys; he felt comfort knowing that no matter what happened, that if he couldn't be at Dany's side to protect her, that his ever faithful Direwolf would.

"Strange…he's always had a nasty habit of wandering off at times, all alone; quiet as a Ghost" Jon replied.

"I sometimes forget he's here he is that quiet. You certainly named him well" Dany smiled.

"The Halfhand used to tell me he would never be tamed; that it was impossible trying to even Understand a Wild thing. But growing with him; seeing him get bigger and fiercer…him and I began to understand each other…the same way you seem to understand your dragons" Jon held her closer as they walked in synch.

"Now on that I can relate. Jorah used to tell me I would never be able to tame my sons; after a while I came to understand it was never about taming them, but connecting with them, understanding that they weren't just dumb animals, that they were…"

"Apart of you" Jon finished Dany's sentence for her. she smiled at how Jon understood what she meant; his bonding with Rhaegal had a more profound effect on him than she expected.

The three kept walking; seeing over the preparations; the Unsullied readying their dragonglass spears, the Northmen handing out Dragonglass edged Arakhs to the Dothraki. The Men of House Reed tipping their arrows in molten dragonglass and the Crakehall men doing maintenance on their plate armour and the armour of their horses.

Jon couldn't remember the first time he had seem to many men in Heavy armour; the lands near Crakehall must have had great Iron Mines to provide the raw materials for so much plate armour and chainmail.

The way the Lords that were present looked at Dany still bothered him greatly; Lord Glover gave her a side eye from the battlements with a thinly vieled mistrust; Lord Manderly tended to steer clear of her; Lord Cerwyn would smile to her face but Jon could see the unfounded fear behind his eyes, obviously still remembering the sight of his flayed father in his head and hearing the stories of how Lord Rickard and Lord Brandon had met their fates at the hands of Daenerys' father.

Lyanna Mormont was still on the fence, though she was not the type to mince words or hold back what she thought. Even the young Lord Flint looked at Daenerys with a barely restrained hatred; that hatred turning to fear whenever Jon turned his gaze towards him. He honestly thought Lord Roderick Flint looked better with that black eye he had given him.

Then; turning his gaze back to Daenerys; Jon noticed that little hint of barely restrained sadness in her eyes. She had come all the way North to save the people; her people, yet the Lords still looked at her with the same disdain and mistrust they would give a common criminal.

She didn't deserve to well on their looks any longer; that's when lightning struck Jon's mind and an idea began to take hold. A quick idea that may just lift her spirits.

"My Queen…may I interest you in a ride?" Jon asked as he turned and faced Daenerys.

"A ride? What kind of ride?" Daenerys asked with a confused smile; Ghost comically tilting his head.

"It occurs to me I've shown you everything of Winterfell; but not of WinterTown. The people would very much like to meet their Queen after all" Jon smiled.

"Oh…no, Lord Snow, I'm…I'm not sure if…" Dany began to doubt herself; but Jon pulled her in close and gazed into her eyes.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Yes" She replied without hesitation as she found herself ensnared by his iron grey eyes.

"Then let's go" he smiled as he led her towards the stables where their horses were being kept. Along the way Jon pointed to four well-armed and armoured Stark men, the leader of the men easily distinguished by his long bushy beard.

"Aberdolf, get your men on their horses; the Queen and I need an escort" Jon smiled as he led Dany to her silver mount.

"Aye sire" The Strongbearded man replied with a nod; standing up and kicking one of his men in the arse "You Erd him! Get yer fucking arses up" he said with a really thick accent; not Northern…but strong.

Jon and Dany mounted their horses; Ghost's tail wagging as the Stark bannermen mounted their horses and positioned themselves on all four corners of the two Targaryens. The Direwolf standing at his full height looking about as big an any of the horses.

* * *

The clopping of hooves over snow echoed as the man on horseback approached the large heart tree. A large black stallion under him whinnying as it approached the tree, Valyrian Steel great sword on his back and a look of tension adorning his face. Small figures, no larger than children seemed to appear from around the tree, their skin green like leaves and their eyes inhuman yet filled with emotion at the side of the man approaching them.

Alden Stark had come a long way; and from the way the snow was heavily falling around him, it seemed he was just in time.

"Halt" one of the children spoke, holding out a hand.

Alden raised both his arms and made his stallion halt as the children drew bows and spears and aimed them at the heavily armed and armoured Northman.

"I am Alden…Blood of the Wolf and King in the North…I have come to honour the bargain" he spoke with surety.

Slowly but surely the children lowered their spears and bows.

Alden slowly dismounted the stallion; Brandon Stark standing nearby watching intently as Alden took Ice from his back and carried it over to the children. It was only then that Bran noticed that this Ice was not the same Valyrian Steel sword his father wielded; the blade was narrower; its hilt more ornate with runic markings of the First men and High Valyrian.

"You have come to us at last…and you do not bring the child…but dragonsteel?" one of the children asked with a tilted head.

"I will not bring Brandon into this" Alden replied quickly.

"You have the chance to destroy this evil for all time…to erase it with the gift of Ice and Fire…yet you refuse? Why?" Leaf asked.

"My son will not be a part of this…he will not. This is my burden to bear, not his, I will not risk his life or his suffering for something he has no part in" Alden replied.

"He won't…but his descendants will…thousands of years from now, his descendants and the descendants of dragon may suffer or rejoice depending on how your choice transpires" another of the children said while circling around him.

"I will not fail in my mission; I swear it on my life" Alden replied.

"Success in one thing can often lead to failure in another if given time. And whatever oaths you swear will not help you in what is to come" another one of the Children said as they approached and looked up at him.

"Just tell me what must be done, dam you" Alden grit his teeth.

"You are the greatest warrior amongst the living…it must be your blade that does the deed. And since you did not bring the child…you must endure a pain beyond imagining" yet another child said as they approached.

"Whatever you have in store for me, I will accept it" Alden replied.

"You may accept now, Alden of the Wolf…but in time…your stubborn sacrifice may lead to damnation" another child stepped aside to lead Alden to the Heart Tree.

The towering Stark ancestor rolled his shoulders and walked towards the Heart Tree; there the Children asked him to lay down his arms, cloak and armour. He complied with their every wish; leaving him in only his leathers and boots.

"What do you want of me now?" he asked.

"…You must endure the pain of death and survival, die but not die; step into the veil between the living and the dead. To defeat the Night King…you must take upon his strengths, become more…and less than a man" Leaf, the leader gestured to the Tree.

"I will do whatever you ask of me…just tell me what to do" Alden borderline growled; tired of the constant riddles and cryptic speeches.

"You must be bound to the heart tree…and surrender your heart…and your soul, to the will of the Old Gods" Leaf spoke.

Alden knew of what they meant; he took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with cold air before letting out a loud sigh. He could see one of the children take out a long black dagger of Dragonglass; a knife of volcanic origin, fire given form like the dragons of his wife's homeland.

"For fuck's sake let's get this over with" the Northman growled as he sat with his back to the Heart Tree. The children approaching with ropes and a gag to muffle the screams he would give when the deed was done.

Bran watched intently as he saw Alden Stark tied to the tree to have Dragonglass plunged into his heart.

Bran watched Alden Stark kick and scream at the top of his lungs as the Dragonglass slowly pierced his chest and took root deep in the cockles of his heart. Bran's face left its usual vacant expression as he could almost feel the pain Alden went through; his shrieks of pain piercing the air as the wind began to howl; as snow began to fall.

The screams slowly died down as he went lax; the Children stepping back at the sight of what they had done. Hands clenched so tight they could draw blood; Bran stepped around to see what the children had done to Alden; but before his eyes could see what Alden Stark had turned into; an icy blue hand shot out of nowhere and wrapped around his arm.

"AGH!" Bran screamed in genuine shock as the Night King materialized beside him. Without a moment's hesitation he snapped himself out of the vision as fast as he could. The time between the Night King lunging for him and the visions ending was getting shorter. Bran was afraid that the next time he went into a vision would at last be caught in the Night King's grasp.

The last time that had happened…it didn't end well.

Bran looked up at the many ravens and crows perching up in the Heart Tree above him. It was perhaps time to do some reconnaissance on the enemy; regular updates on their progress were important after all.

* * *

The clip clop of hooves against stone was a comforting sound to Daenerys; like the Khaleesi that she was she enjoyed the power and grace of riding in the saddle of a limber and healthy mare like the one she was riding. The silver mare may not have been the Silver that Drogo had gifted to her, but this mare was just as fast and limber and agile. Then again one could never feel as powerful on horseback as they could on Dragonback.

Then again; the snow stifled the sound of horse hooves on stone, so that added comfort was not there. When Daenerys had first passed through WinterTown she was in the midst of her army of 9,000 loyal and dedicated Unsullied; with Drogon and Rhaegal gliding overhead. But right now, the only protection she has was Jon, four Northern soldiers loyal to him and the ever faithful Direwolf, Ghost.

Not that she doubted the loyalty of those protecting her, but if a riot broke out it would be all too easy for the Northerners to tear her from the back of her horse and beat her to death or tear her limb from limb. But while she expected rotten fruit and jeers of hatred and distrust, the same as she was greeted with by the Northern Lords; instead she saw smiling faces and people bowing their heads not in fear, but respect.

The people looked much better than they did when she arrived; obviously the food that Tyrion had advised they bring had done wonders for the common folk. She couldn't help but smile when a few children raced to the side of the road to get a good look at the Dragon Queen; entranced at her silver hair and violet eyes.

"There is an Alehouse just down the road, The Smoking Log, they brew a very fine brown ale, does her grace feel a bit thirsty?" Jon asked.

"Now that you mention it Lord Snow…I am feeling rather parched" Daenerys smiled.

Only a few moments later and the doors to the Inn and Alehouse were opened by Alberdolf and one of the Stark Men; followed immediately by Jon, Daenerys and Ghost, the last two Stark men closing the doors behind them. Inside the Alehouse were the sounds of singing and merry making; a roaring fire illuminated the room as the bartender and barmaids took orders let and right. Surprisingly Dany found the place quite spacious and warm, unlike the cold, grim and solemn halls of Winterfell this place felt…homely.

The people weren't lordly in the slightest, no manners from the hairy and bearded men that messily slurped down ale that spilled down their bushy beards, tearing into mutton and pork and snorting like pigs. It wasn't an upper-class place, but it was certainly a welcome change of pace from what Daenerys had experienced of the North so far.

"…and so, I said to him; if you think I'm selling you more that fucking horse for that less than 2 silvers you got another thing coming!" one drunken Stark soldier said from one of the nearby tables.

"Then what did he say?" one of his mates asked; his mouth still full of chicken.

"I don't know…fucker was already riding off" he replied to the laughs of his friends. A little girl ran up to the soldier and tugged on his sleeve.

"What is it luv?" he asked with a smile.

"Poppa, what does the Dragon Queen look like?" she asked.

"Oh, my sweet; you saw her when she rode into town. She's got silver hair; violet eyes and the prettiest smile ever…well not as pretty as your smile luv" he smiled as he ruffled her brown hair.

"Is that her?" she pointed right as Daenerys. The soldier and all his friends turned in their seats to look upon the ethereal form of the Dragon Queen herself; as if on que everyone else in the Inn noticed her presence and fell to their knees.

"Your grace!" the stark soldier dropped to his knees at the sight of the Dragon Queen.

Jon didn't take offence that they didn't acknowledge him; he blended into Northern settings quite well with his dark hair and furred cloak. But Daenerys stuck out like a sore thumb with her bright white fur coat and her gleaming silver hair. Ghost being present only helped in making her stand out against the Northern setting.

"Please, don't mind us my people…Lord Snow and I are just here for a drink" Daenerys gestured for the people to get off their knees.

"Oi you heard them! Her Grace and Lord Snow want a table!" the Bartender shouted at the top of his lungs. People began scrambling to put together a table suitable for a Queen and the Lord of Winterfell.

"Please, this isn't necessary" Dany held out her hands in protest as the Northern people inside the Tavern went about fetching chairs and fresh ale and food for the two. Jon all the time watching the looks on Dany's face; the surprise that these people were being so hospitable to her.

It was no surprise to Jon how the common people would react to Daenerys; as a Bastard boy he would come to the Smoking Log to drink; Sometimes Robb and Theon would tag along but he knew a lot of the patrons by name. Being a Bastard boy, he came to understand how they thought, how they processed things. Unlike the Highborn cunts that littered palaces and castles, the common people didn't care if you were a Bastard or not; they cared about what kind of person you were.

Dany's arrival in Winterfell at first seemed like an invasion; but when Jon saw the Unsullied handing out food, fresh provisions and blankets to the people of WinterTown he saw how they reacted. These were people that simply wanted their children fed, warm and safe; and Daenerys had brought all three. They didn't care about her status as a Targaryen once she provided for them, they saw her as a rescuer as Jon knew she was.

Within ten minutes the mood had went back to the same joyous mood the Tavern had when Jon and Dany had first arrived. Many of the tables had been brought into a large circle as Dany regaled the people with tales of Essos, of how she got her army of Unsullied, how her Dragons eggs hatched, her conquest of Slaver's bay and many more stories that the people listened to with great interest. For a Queen to walk amongst her people was one thing; but to sit in a tavern with them and drink, laugh and share stories was simply unheard of.

Jon smiled warmly as he watched Dany tell her stories to the people; some children had actually come inside and sat on the bear skin rug next to the Hearth. The Bartender and Barmaids brought in fresh food and made sure the ale mugs were full of the brownest they could spare; in honour of the Queen.

"…He fully expected me to relinquish one of my dragons to him in exchange for a slave army; little did he know I understood every single word he had said to me as if I didn't understand him" Daenerys explained.

"You know Valyrian your grace?" one of the men asked.

"Issa ñuha muña ēngos" Daenerys replied to the awe of everyone there; the beautiful and flowing dialogue enthralling everyone as if they had heard the very voice of an angel.

"What does that mean your grace?" one of the women asked; bouncing a little boy on her lap.

"It means 'It is my Mother tongue' I knew how to speak Valyrian before I could speak common" Daenerys smiled back.

The people whispered back in forth in awe at the beauty of the foreign tongue; most of the people in the North could barely get by speaking the common tongue; but to hear someone speak in such a poetic and mystical tongue that hadn't been spoken in the North for hundreds of years was an experience in itself.

"Milord…if you don't mind me asking, are the rumours true?" one of the other common folks asked; judging by his beaten leathers and furs he was probably a Hunter.

"What rumours?" Jon asked with a raised brow after taking a swig of ale.

"That you aren't Lord Eddard's son. That your mother and father were Lady Lyanna and Prince Rhaegar?" the Hunter asked.

"Absolutely true; Jon is a legitimate Targaryen" Daenerys happily admitted; Jon smiling at the dreamy look she shot at him as she explained. If Dany's High Valyrian demonstration wasn't enough to fill the people with shock and awe, Jon's parentage certainly did.

"A Legitimate Targaryen? Like your grace?" one of the dirtier Stark warriors asked.

"Very much so; although he doesn't have the colouring; Jon certainly has Dragonblood flowing through his veins" Dany happily admitted; placing a hand on Jon's arm. Many of the common folk noticed the gesture and the way the two highborns looked at each other; a pretty easy puzzle to piece together.

"Wouldn't that make him…a Prince? Or a King?" one of the barmaids asked as she brought over fresh ale.

"Oh, Jon is every Inch a King; a true Dragonlord of Old Valyria; he has already proven himself in riding a Dragon" Daenerys replied. Jon admitted the flattery was getting too much for him when he noticed Dany was sitting much closer to him; and had went from placing a hand on his arm to wrapping hers around his.

"Was that you riding that Green Dragon, Your Grace?" the Bartender asked; the title change from Milord to Your Grace flowing naturally.

"Aye; that it was. Rhaegal is the dragon's name. He is strong, fast, brave, stubborn and not to mention very wild when he has to be…a lot like his rider to be honest" Jon smiled back with a proud face.

"You nearly shat yourself when I asked you to ride him" Dany stated with a raised a brow at Jon.

Jon nearly spat out his ale when Dany said that; many of the men present began choking in surprise; but the shock quickly turned to raucous laughter; a laughter that Jon joined in after a second of looking at the satisfied grin spread across Dany's face. Many of the Stark men were almost coughing from how hard they were laughing; tears rolled down the faces of the women and some of the children laughed themselves.

Dany was fairly confident that these children had heard far worse cursing from their parents and relatives. Normally as a Queen she would hold herself with a grace and poise; but right now, she wanted to show the Northerners she was just a woman; not some mythical figure they should be afraid of; but a woman that wanted them to feel comfortable around her.

"I hope you don't mind me saying your grace; but you are a proper lady, not like those high and mighty snobs that wince over breaking a nail" one of the drunker patrons laughed with everyone else.

"I'm glad to hear that Les; but I wasn't always as well off as I am now. Believe it or not I used to live on the streets; begging for food and table scraps" Daenerys replied as the laughing subsided.

"No…you lived on the streets your grace?" one of the women asked with surprise in their eyes.

"I did…after Robert took the throne my brother and my mother; still pregnant with me were sent to Essos to escape his assassins. My mother died bringing me into the world; and when I was but a child; the old knight that took care my brother and I died of illness. After that our former servants took all of our money and threw my brother and I onto the streets to fend for ourselves…I had never cried so much in my life…"

"How old were you?" one of the children asked; enthralled.

"…I was five years old…barely able to even understand why it was happening. We had hard times after that; things got so bad my brother had to sell our mother's crown for food. After that Viserys became bitter; and angry, angry at Robert for taking our birth right from us, angry at the world for denying us a home, angry at me for killing our mother…he only got worse after that. Eventually he even sold me to the Dothraki…the way you would sell a goat or a pig…" Dany explained sombrely as the people gathered around listened intently.

Jon couldn't help put listen to the pain in the way she confessed her past to the people around her; to a bystander who had never met Daenerys it would seem as if she were in pain describing it. But Jon knew Dany; and he could tell from the tone in her voice that simply having people that didn't judge her listening to her words was extraordinarily cathartic. As Dany told the people of what hardships she had suffered it was then that Jon realized why they both felt so comfortable here.

They weren't born and raised as Royalty were. He was born and raised as a Bastard, the bastard of a great and kind Lord but a bastard nonetheless. Noble sons weren't forced to sit away from their families and by hateful mothers, they weren't sneered at by everyone they passed, and they weren't constantly reminded how worthless they were and how their existence was a mistake. Princes even less so; yet that's what he had always been in truth; a Prince.

Princesses weren't thrown out onto the streets to fend for themselves; to starve and sleep under bridges with the rats, to scavenge for scraps to not die of hunger. To sell the only things they had of their past and long dead family just to survive, to be abused by a bitter and angry brother without anyone to defend or protect them. To be sold like livestock just so their brother can gain an army to further himself. Jon and Dany were not the typical royalty people would expect. They had much more in common with these commoners than any of the Lords or Ladies in Winterfell or the Red Keep. They understood what it meant to not be appreciated, to not be loved, to be ignored, to have to scrape to survive, to do whatever was necessary just to keep breathing.

Jon held Dany's hand in his; no longer caring if anyone saw how tenderly he caressed her hand in his.

'_You won't have to suffer that pain again…I promise you'_ Jon swore to Dany within his mind. He would make sure she never suffered pain like that ever again.

"Your graces" one of the children asked; a little boy no older than 6 in ragged clothes. Dany and Jon both turned to face him.

"The White Walkers…the Long Night…it's really coming?" he asked with a trembling voice.

"…Aye little one; I wish it weren't" Jon replied.

"…Will…will you protect us?" the boy asked just as scared; having been weened stories of the Long Night and the coming of the White Walkers for his childhood.

"What is your name?" Daenerys asked.

"Ned" he replied quickly; afraid he may have said something not befitting a question to a Queen. But Dany slowly knelt down and leaned forward, reaching forward she cupped the little lad's face in her soft hands before speaking as softly as she could.

"I swear to you Ned, we will…We will do everything in our power to keep you safe, all of you" Dany held the little boy's face in her hands as tenderly as she could. The tears came streaming down the little boy's face whether it was out of relief or fear or sadness or something else. Daenerys couldn't help but pull the little boy into her arms; his tears staining her white fur coat, but she didn't care.

For the first time since arriving in Winterfell; Daenerys Targaryen; Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons; felt like she had found her people. And the People of the North had felt they had finally found their Queen in the most unlikely of faces. The face of a highborn woman embracing a lowborn boy in tattered rags.

"When the fighting is all over; the North will need big, strong boys like you to help rebuild. Can I count on you Ned?" Dany asked as she broke the embrace after a minute or two.

"Y-You can C-Count on me…my Queen" Ned sniffed; wiping his tears away.

"Alberdorf; you make sure that boy and his family are fed and well taken care of; is that understood?" Jon asked the bearded man.

"Of course, Sire" he nodded.

"Not just them…everyone in Wintertown; you make sure if anything happens you let myself or the Queen know about it" Jon made sure to reiterate his point so his bannerman understood.

One of the commoners stood up with his ale mug in hand; and with a bellowing yell he shouted "TO THE KING AND QUEEN!" his ale spilling onto the floor. without even a moment's hesitation every person in the Alehouse stood to their feet and raised whatever mug or tankard or horn they were drinking out of and announced as one at a volume that everyone outside could hear.

"TO THE KING AND QUEEN!"

Jon and Dany's eyes met; the White Wolf offering his hand to the still kneeling Daenerys who took the offered hand and rose to her feet. The Dragon Queen and her Dragonwolf couldn't help but smile as the dozens upon dozens of patrons cheered and toasted to the man and woman they had accepted as their new King and Queen.

* * *

**WHOA I ENJOYED WRITING THAT; I hope you guys enjoyed reading it**.

**No smut in this chapter, but then again, I didn't promise Smut did i? I promised some Jonerys and I hope you guys enjoyed the bit I had in this chapter. The final breath before the plunge is coming lads and lasses, so I hope you are all ready for the Fireworks because they are going to be loud.**

**In case any of you needed visual aid as to how the Crakehall men are dressed; imagine the Cavalrymen in 15****th**** century German plate armour (Sallet helms, fully segmented plate) and late 14****th**** century plate and mail, while the infantrymen wear mixes of 14****th**** century plate and mail armour and a more even mix of chainmail, Bassinette helms, Brigandine battle vests, Kettle hats, late 12****th**** century Iron Hat helms with and without face plates. **

**And YES, that Lead Stark guard is Aberdolf Strongbeard AKA Andre McClay AKA The Best Extra is TV HISTORY! CLUB sandwiches my dudes XD I couldn't resist giving him a bit of love. **

**I hope the next chapter will please because I still have a bit of ground to cover before the battle commences. Basically, the characters all getting locked and loaded for what is just out on the horizon. **

**See you guys next time, Hope you enjoyed it and as always REVIEW, they always help.**

**DAKKAMAN777 SIGNING OUT.**


	11. The Deep Breath

**Well everybody; here we got; the final stretch before the plunge into the first battle of the story. I hope you guys enjoy this build up; showing the characters prepare for what is coming. This chapter was a long one, so I split it in two; here is hoping you enjoy the last quiet moments you'll be getting for a little while.**

**Also, as a little Aside because I need to vent again, FUCK D&D AND FUCK HBO FOR CONTINUING TO DEFEND THIS FUCKING GARBAGEFIRE OF A FINAL SEASON! NO MATTER HOW MANY FUCKING AWARDS YOU BRIBE THEM INTO IT WILL NEVER CHANGE THE FACT THAT GAME OF THRONES IS FUCKING DEAD BECAUSE OF THEM!**

**SDCC panel – fucking disaster, the two spineless cowards didn't show up because they knew the crowd would lynch them, Nathalie Emmanual didn't show up because let's be honest, why would she fucking want to, after what the show did to Missandei? She has more important things to work on like the Dark Crystal, and the cast weren't allowed to take questions and were so goddam scripted it's a fucking wonder they didn't read out their stage directions. **

**And to add a final fuck you to the HBO Garbage fire, They actually used a Jonerys picture…one of Jon and Dany passionately kissing whilst illuminated by ice and fire as a promotional art piece…after what they did to them….WHY DIDN'T YOU DO A BRAN THE BROKEN POSTER? OH YEAH! ITS BECAUSE HE FUCKING SUCKS AND EVERYONE HATES THE FUCKING ENDING!BECAUSE YOU KNOW JON AND DANY ARE THE LEADS, THE REAL MAIN CHARACTERS! YET YOU TURNED THEM INTO A MADWOMAN AND AN EXILE NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT….CONGRATS YOU FUCKING SLUGS!**

**God, I needed that. okay, onto the Chapter.**

**Chapter 11: The Deep Breath**

The day had finally come.

Or rather the Night was fast approaching.

This was the day that the Army of the Dead would arrive upon the fields of Winterfell at sundown; according to Benjen's last report and scouting updates from Bran, the White Walkers and their army of corpses would arrive at night. Soldiers readied their armour and kept their dragonglass weapons handy. The Knights of the Veil and the Men of Crakehall donned their plate and mail. The Dothraki readied their horses and made sure they were well fed and rested.

The Northerners, Southerners and Crannogmen readied their arrows and bows; making sure they were in tip top condition. The Unsullied readied their shields and spears and helms; the Free Folk made sure they had their weapons handy and ready for use.

The tension was thick; so thick it would need Valyrian Steel to cut it.

"Make sure that Pitch is boiling hot lads! We need it hot enough to melt bone!" Bronn shouted from the battlements as men readied pitch in the vats below.

"How are we looking on Pitch?" Jamie asked as he approached Bronn, his Crakehall squire still strapping on the last bits of Northern style plate armour onto the Lion of Casterly rock.

"How many barrels worth are we looking at?" Bronn asked one of the men below.

"100 milord"

"That's far less than we need" Jamie sighed as his squire finished attaching his pauldron onto his left shoulder.

"We'll have to make do. We didn't exactly have months to prepare for this" Bronn replied.

"True…but if we had listened earlier, we would have" Jamie replied sombrely as he waved off the squire.

"Your sister would never have fucking listened" Bronn replied.

"…I'm afraid you are right" Jamie sighed.

Down below Lyle Crakehall had his squire buckle the last few segments of his heavy plate armour. Almost every inch of him covered in heavy steel plate, chainmail of the finest quality, heavy quilted underlay. It would take some serious damage to break through his armour and get to the powerful man beneath it. As the Squire finished buckling the last gauntlet into place; he handed Lyle his helmet. The boar tusks that were inlaid into the helmet could be dangerous weapons in themselves, after all it was a boar tusk that killed King Robert.

"That'll do boy…go on; ready my horse" Lyle dismissed his squire.

"Been a long time, Crakehall" came a familiar gruff voice from behind. Lyle turned to meet scarred gazes with none other then Sandor Clegane, the Hound.

"Clegane…I heard you were here" Lyle replied gruffly as he under armed his helmet.

The history between Lyle 'Strongboar' Crakehall and Sandor 'the Hound' Clegane was not a very pleasant one. Both men were Westerlanders in service to the Lannisters for most of their life; Lyle as a Knight of Crakehall and Sandor as a loyal sworn sword. They had similarities, both were skilled elite fighters, both were large and powerful men that had seen warfare in all its horror. But they had stark differences.

Lyle was a Knight and held Honour and chivalry in high regard.

While Sandor's past with his brother had made him very critical of the ideas of Knighthood, that it was a hypocritical system that rewarded dishonourable monsters like Gregor.

Needless to say, they didn't like each other.

"How long has it been?" Sandor asked.

"Quite a while…the Tourney on Prince Joffrey's twelfth name day as I recall" Lyle replied holding Sandor's gaze. The air between them growing tense.

"I heard your father is dead" Sandor replied straight to the point.

"Yes…killed by your brother" Lyle replied quickly.

"Then I suppose we both have a grudge with him now"

Lyle stepped closer until only a few inches separated them. there in the courtyard of Winterfell stood two of the strongest and largest men in the seven kingdoms; Sandor probably only having half an inch on the Strongboar. Both of them were fully armed and armoured for combat; Lyle in his full plate, Sandor in his chainmail and a coat of plates he had equipped beneath a plain black surcoat he found lying around. Sandor had his double sided Dragonglass axe while Lyle had his mace and a Dragonglass sword sheathed at his side.

"You know…for a while I thought you were the worst sack of shit in the Seven Kingdoms. A scarred, vile and cruel excuse for a man that deserved to rot in the gutters with the rest of the rats" Lyle finally broke the silence.

"And I never gave less of a fuck" Sandor replied; he was far past caring about what highborn men thought about him.

"When Riverrun was retaken, I vowed to hunt you down and skin you like a pig. For a while I hated you more than anything; how you spat at our vows, killed Lannister men, killed innocent people, made a mockery of Knighthood..." Lyle continued, ignoring Sandor's comment.

"Yet here you are, ready to fight for humanity rather than cower in the south with the rest of the shits that follow Cersei…" Lyle took a deep breath before continuing.

"…I always respected your strength and your skill. What is coming…is bigger than you or me Clegane. Once all this is over you can go about your way; fuck off to Essos or rot in a gutter or do whatever you want. Until then, I hope your weapon arm is as strong as it used to be" Lyle nodded before turning to walk away.

Sandor saw the hurt in Lyle's eyes, it was the same kind of hurt he felt whenever he saw his face in a mirror. He didn't know Lyle well, but the Crakehall man loved his father; and a loving father was something Sandor had never had.

"Lyle" Sandor called out as Lyle walked away.

Lyle turned to meet eyes with Sandor again as he spoke "…I'm sorry about your father. I didn't know him well, but he will be avenged"

Lyle's eyes widened at the words Sandor gave him; it was uncharacteristic of the Hound to give words of support like that. Usually he would just grunt call someone a Cunt and then go about his business. Knights like Lyle usually took the brunt of name calling and inflammatory words from The Hound, the Strongboar fully expected his words of respect to be ignored and followed up with a "Go fuck a Pig you full plated cunt"

But Sandor's words; they were the words of a different man.

"Thank you…Sandor" Lyle nodded with a small smile.

"Don't get fucking used to it" Sandor smirked. 'That was more like it' Lyle thought as he grinned inwardly before walking off.

* * *

"This enemy is unlike anything any of us have faced before. They do not tire, they do not fear, they do not stop. We have Dragonglass, fire and Valyrian Steel…but we are ridiculously outnumbered. This army doesn't take prisoners, doesn't show mercy or fear or pity or pain. They will swarm over us like ants if we let them; wash over us like a wave and leave nothing but red snow in their wake" Jon said as he leaned over the table; every Lord, every Lady, every battle commander and elite fighter present for the final war council for the coming fight.

"Our last count of their forces stands at 500,000 at the very least…while we barely have a fifth of that" Jon continued.

"That's 500,000 not including Giants, Wolves, Direwolves and Gods know what else" Benjen spoke up and all eyes were on him. "Everything North of the Wall was slaughtered and brought to heel beneath the Night King; no expense in building his army" he continued.

"If everything North of the Wall is marching with them; then you had all better be ready to be surprised. That means Shadowcats as big as horses, Sabre cats with fangs as long as daggers, Mammoths with tusks as large as a man, Terrorbirds taller than men with beaks that can break a Horse's neck, Thunderbirds that can pick a man clean off the ground…" Tormund began listing off all the various horrors that they could be facing shortly.

"…Not to mention those fucking pale spiders…" Tormund shivered at the thought of facing those things again.

"Pale Spiders? Will we be fighting Grumpkins and Snarks too?" Lord Glover scoffed.

"Have you ever been North of the wall?" Tormund asked Glover.

"No"

"Then don't fucking tell me what's up there, you grey sunken cunt" Tormund growled.

"Giantsbane is telling the truth, we fought those creatures on the way here…you had better be ready when the fighting starts" Beric spoke up.

"We cannot afford to meet them head on in the field, with those numbers; fighting them head on is suicide" Jon explained.

"Then how do you suggest we fight them?" Jamie asked.

"The Night King created them all. While North of the wall we learned that if you kill a Walker you kill the dead that he himself created…the Night King created all of them, wights and walkers both…we kill him, we kill the army" Jon explains.

"If that's true he won't exactly be fighting on the front lines. Who is to say he won't just sit in the back and let his expendable army do the hard work?" Lyle asked.

"Because he'll be coming for me" Bran spoke up; all eyes turning to him.

"Why would he be coming for you?" Arya asked.

"I don't know. He wants me for something; every time I got into one of my visions, he is there…waiting for me" Bran explained.

"What would he want with you?" Jamie asked.

"Maybe he sees you as a threat?" Bronn suggested.

"I doubt it…he has lived for thousands and thousands of years…he has killed more Three Eyed Ravens than I can count" Bran replied.

"Why? What does he want?" Sam asked.

"An Endless night? Dominion over the world? To end humanity? I don't know what he wants; the Children of the forest created the Walkers to wage war on the first men; perhaps he simply wants to finish what his creators started?" Bran suggested.

"How will he find you?" Tyrion asked.

"He marked me, a while ago…he will always know where I am" Bran explained, showing them the handprint burned into his arm.

"We'll put you in the main hall where it's safest" Sansa suggested.

"No; we need to lure him out into the open before his army destroys us, we can't do that if he is hidden away" Lyle suggested.

"You want to use him as Bait?!" Sansa exclaimed at the Crakehall Lord's suggestion.

"He's right…I'll wait for the Night King in the Godswood" Bran agreed with Ser Lyle.

"We won't leave you alone" Arya said passionately; not wanting to leave her brother alone in the middle of a war.

"He won't be alone…I'll be there with him" Meera spoke up; locking eyes with Bran.

"Meera; you don't have to…" Bran began until the Lady of House Reed cut him off.

"I swore an oath to protect you…my brother and I both swore oaths; I will not break that oath now" she interrupted with all the passion of a Northern warrior.

"Take 20 of my Unsullied; they should help if things get dire" Daenerys offered; Meera nodded in thanks.

"20 Men of house Reed will also stand beside you; you'll be in safe hands" Lord Howland nodded. 40 good fighting men and one master marksman in defence of Bran was as good as they could do. Not enough to discourage the Night King but enough to at least give him some trouble.

"Those that can't fight will be in the main hall; they'll need someone to defend and protect them" Jon spoke up; bringing up the issue.

"I'll protect them with the Ironborn" Theon volunteered; his eyes meeting Sansa's.

"I took this castle once; betrayed the North, betrayed my family…I will not let you down" Theon swore.

"Very well" Jon nodded when he noted Sansa's pleading look to him. He could tell Sansa didn't want Theon on the front lines; and he already knew from the past that he would defend Sansa and the others that couldn't fight with his life.

"Bran will have Lady Reed, Unsullied and Crannogmen defending him; while Lord Theon and his Ironborn protect those that can't fight…where does that leave the rest of us?" Lyle asked.

"Your job is to hold off the Walkers and their army for as long as you can. Fighting them head on is off the table; so, we'll have to make them pay in bodies to get close. The first barrier has been designed to break up their ranks; it will be mainly human Wights so when they've been broken up, they'll be easy to ride down" Jon walked around the table and gestured to the first barrier.

"And who will be leading the charge?" Tyrion asked.

"Your grace I would gladly lead the Knights of the vale in the vanguard" Lord Royce nodded to Jon.

"Arses to that; I'm leading the charge. Crakehall men are better built for breaking lines apart, besides you seem a little old and podgy in the midsection to be riding into battle Lord Royce" Lyle interjected.

"How dare you! I could still ride circles around you, you impertinent little pup!" Lord Royce yelled back.

"My men follow me! Not some stuck up Vale lord too fat for his horse!" Lyle shouted back; pointing an armoured finger at Royce.

"You'll both be leading the charge" Jon broke their arguing. Both Lord Royce and Ser Lyle looking to Jon with confused expressions; how could they both lead the vanguard charge?

"We'll increase the damage we'll do to their ranks if we flank them in a pincer movement. Lord Royce and the Vale Knights will attack from the left flank while Ser Lyle and the Crakehall heavy cavalry attack from the right. Once their lines have been shattered apart the Dothraki will charge in from the same two points; led by Ser Jorah on the left and Qhono on the right" Jon explained; gesturing to the pieces all the time.

"During your assault you will be assisted by the trebuchets and heavy artillery we have set up within the walls; we've made sure they've been set up far enough that they will hit their targets beyond the barricade" Daenerys explained; also gesturing to the pieces signifying the artillery.

"I'm alright with that…as long as the Old Man can ride as well as he talks" Lyle glanced at Royce.

"I would wipe the mother's milk off your moustache before you get on your horse" Royce shot back.

"Alright, Settle down. Now even with their ranks broken it won't take long for them to overwhelm you with sheer numbers. Once things get out of control it's important you fall back before your loses become too crippling" Jon explained; making full use of the pieces on the board.

"From there the next barricade is a simple trench filled with kindling; once ignited this trench will give our cavalry time to properly retreat and our infantry time to prepare" Daenerys pointed out the next obstacle the dead would have to cross.

"How do you suggest we light it?" Davos asked.

"A hail of Flaming arrows should do the trick. Failing in that, Dragon fire would be the next best bet" Jamie suggested.

"We can't risk the Dragons too soon. They are the best bet against fighting the Night King; any one of those Walkers could easily throw one of those Ice Spears that killed Viserion" Daenerys replied; the images of Viserion falling and his cries of pain still echoing in the back of her mind.

"We'll have to rely on the archers to do their job then" Jamie nodded; understanding that putting the dragons at risk so soon probably wasn't the best idea.

"From there come the manned defences; Grey Worm, Lady Brienne, Lord Benjen and Lord Beric will be in command of these defences" Jon gestured to the pieces on the board.

"At this point the focus will be to bottleneck the Dead as best we can; take away the advantage of their numbers. If they are tightly packed and slowed down then their attacks will smash against Unsullied shields and they will fall under Dragonglass blades and spears" Daenerys continued.

"Ser Jamie, Ser Bronn, Lord Commander Tollet, you three will command the archers and wall defences at this point in the battle. It's paramount you reign arrows upon them constantly and keep an eye out for whatever else they send our way. But use the Dragonglass projectiles sparingly, we cannot afford to throw it away; flaming arrows will work well against Wights; save the Dragonglass for the real threats" Jon explained; Edd, Bronn and Jamie nodding in response.

"The trench in front of the manned fortifications will be our final defence before the walls themselves. When things get dire; the trench must be lit so that our infantry forces can retreat inside the walls to man them for the final assault" Daenerys explained.

"It's a good plan in practise…but good plans always fall apart when put into action" Edd sighed; he had a point as the Walkers were anything but predictable.

"That's why we are counting upon all of you to do your duties. It's not a perfect plan and it's not without its faults. But it's the best we have to hold back the dead until the Night King himself shows up" Daenerys replied.

"And if the Icy Fuck doesn't show up?" The Hound asked.

"Kill the Walkers…killing them will at least put sizable dents in their army. If you see a Walker you had better kill it" Jon replied.

"How will we tell the Walkers from the Wights?" Lord Flint asked.

"Believe me…you'll know them when you see them" Tormund said with a menacing edge to his voice.

"We know Valyrian Steel and Dragonglass kills the Walkers…but the Night King; how are we sure they'll even work? How are we sure Dragon fire will work?" Jamie asked.

"Will any of those kill him?" Arya asked Bran.

"…only one man has ever stood against the Night King. Alden of the North" Bran replied.

"Who?" Jon asked.

"The Patriarch of our family…the first Stark; the father of Bran the builder" Benjen replied.

"That would make him the…" Arya tried putting the pieces together.

"The Last Hero; the mythical figure of legend who ended the Long Night all those centuries ago. He fought the Walkers with a sword of Dragonsteel and sent them into the lands of always winter" Bran continued.

"I always hated Legends; far too unpredictable and full of exaggerations" Tyrion mumbled.

"I've seen him go to the children in my visions; preparing for the battle for the dawn" Bran continued to explain.

"And? How did he defeat the Night King?" Arya asked.

"I don't know; every time I try to look the Night King stops me" Bran explains.

"I'll just take his head off his shoulders; even he wouldn't be able to survive that" Jon sighed as he leaned over the table.

Everyone present looked over the table; understanding their roles in the battle to come, the commanders and the fighters knowing exactly what barricades they would position themselves in and who to follow. Some were itching for a real fight after waiting and preparing for so long, others feared what was on the horizon, but everyone felt the tension in the room.

"We are all going to die" Tormund spoke up; all eyes looking to him. Until he looked up and grinned at Brienne.

"But at least we'll die together" he smiled.

Lyle struck his armoured fist against the table twice "Here, here" he agreed.

"You should all get whatever rest you can; the Long Night has come; and you had best be ready for the darkness" Benjen spoke up.

Everyone nodded and began to disperse; leaving the room without any real order in mind. Gendry approached Jon with his hands behind his back as everyone continued to leave the room. "Your Grace" he bowed; but Jon's hand forced him up.

"Skip the formalities Gendry, just Jon is fine" Jon smiled.

"Sorry; I just wanted to say I finished that piece you wanted earlier today, it's over in the forges whenever you want it" Gendry continued.

"Thank you, Gendry; now go get yourself some rest" Jon smiled; putting a hand on the Baratheon bastard's shoulder. Gendry nodded before leaving, just before he left; he gave Arya a lingering glance that she returned for a few seconds; when Arya winked at Gendry she smirked as he seemed to leave flustered.

"Do I have to worry about you two?" Jon asked as he stood beside Arya.

"This may be our last night in the world of the living; I'm making the most of it, you had better make the most of yours" Arya gave Jon a playful hit on the shoulder before leaving the room with Bran in tow.

This left only Jon, Daenerys, Tyrion and Davos in the room; a couple of Unsullied stayed outside of the room; awaiting their Queen to leave so they could escort her to her next destination. But the four left in the room exchanged a few glances before Jon went over and picked up one of the markers that represented him on Rhaegal; a Stark Direwolf within a three headed Targaryen Dragon; one of the craftsmen had obviously heard the news of his true heritage and had marked it appropriately on the board.

"And what will our roles be, might I ask?" Tyrion asked; referring to himself and Davos.

"The two of you will stay in the main halls; with those who cannot fight" Jon replied.

"With all due respect; fuck that idea" Davos replied calmly with his hands behind his back.

"That wasn't a request; we will need you two should we live through the battle; your minds, your counsel…both are important to us" Daenerys agreed with Jon.

"Us?" Tyrion asked with a raised brow. Jon stepped closer to Dany and slowly wrapped his arm around her waist.

"When this is over; Her Grace and I will marry" Jon replied; the smile on Davos' face speaking leagues of his pride in Jon for finally making that leap.

"Oh…well that will certainly make things easier for us" Tyrion chuckled as he seemed to approve of the match. Having Jon and Daenerys betrothed certainly made the issue of their separate claims to the throne irrelevant; then again right now was hardly the time to be thinking about that issue.

"I'm happy for you two. if we survive this; you deserve to be happy" Davos smiled with all the love and pride of a father.

"Though our orders still stand…you two will stay in the main hall with all the others who cannot fight" Jon replied; not wanting to get off subject.

"Your grace I can assure you that I am more than capable of…" Tyrion tried to interject.

"I'll here no more Tyrion…you cannot risk yourself when there is already an army of men already defending Winterfell" Dany replied passionately; cutting Tyrion off mid-sentence. Tyrion saw the pleading look in her eyes as she spoke; she truly didn't want him mixed up in the fighting when it came.

Tyrion found it best to nod and agree with her; after all he wasn't exactly thrilled at the aspect of fighting hundreds of thousands of walking corpses that plagued the Nightmares of Northerners for centuries. Davos however seemed to only hold Jon's gaze; convincing the Flea Bottom born Knight was going to be a lot harder. Jon and Davos didn't have the same relationship that Tyrion and Dany had.

Dany saw Tyrion like the older brother she had never had; her trust meant a great deal to him and he didn't want to let her down any more than he already had. But Davos was much more stubborn than Tyrion; as he was the one that did the convincing; and unlike Tyrion…Davos had a stellar track record as Jon's Hand and closest Advisor. Hand…a title he would soon be holding again with Jon becoming King consort to Daenerys…or would he be King? Tyrion didn't know the specifics but he guessed neither did Jon or Dany.

"Do you mind if I speak to Ser Davos alone?" Jon asked. Tyrion nodded and quickly left to find something to drink and a place to get warm. Jon leaned into Daenerys and whispered in her ear "I'll find you later, my love" earning a warm smile from the Beautiful Dragon Queen.

Soon the only two left in the war room were Jon and Davos; the Dragonwolf and the Onion Knight.

"You really aren't going to listen to me?" Jon asked.

"I'm not a great fighter Jon…Seven Hells I'm barely a fighter at all. But if you think I'm going to stay indoors with the women and children while you and Daenerys fight…then you don't know me at all" Davos explained passionately.

Jon sighed and placed his hands on the side of the table; looking at all the pieces gathered before he asked a question that had long been lingering on his mind, a question he had never had the guts to ask until now.

"Why do you fight, Davos?" Jon asked.

"Pardon me, your grace?" Davos asked.

"I can understand why so many of the people here fight…I understand why you fought for Stannis. But Stannis is dead, your son is dead, Shireen is dead. But, why do you still fight? Why are you so loyal to me?" Jon asked; looking up to try and scan his face for answers.

"My wife Marya still lives at Cape Wrath in the Stormlands; along with the rest of my sons. My son Dale has a wife…probably expecting a son or daughter to continue the line. Allard and Matthos died at the Blackwater, Devan used to squire for King Stannis…but I sent him to squire for some other Lord when Allard and Matthos died; Marya didn't want to lose him too. Maric keeps Little Stannis and Steffon safe along with Devan back at Cape Wrath…they are why I fight Jon…" Davos for the first time started to get emotional when listing off the names of his still living family.

"…I fight because they need a future. Allard and Matthos were taken from me in the war against the Lannisters; but my little ones…Maric, Devan, Stannis and Steffon…they are my future, so are whatever children Dale has in the future. I fight because if I don't then they will never have a future; everything I do I do for them" Davos explained as he walked up to Jon and put his hands on the Dragonwolf's shoulders.

"As for my loyalty…I fought for Stannis because he made something of me; gave my sons the chance for something better. But I am loyal to you because unlike so many kings and lords of the past; you can change this world for the better. Leave our world a better one than the shit one we live in now…you and Daenerys" Davos smiled as he let a tear drop down his face.

"I can only hope you don't mind me saying lad. Your father; Ned Stark would have been so proud of you, Rhaegar too…any man would be proud to have a son like you" The Onion Knight quickly wiped it away and sniffed back a bit.

"I didn't realize you felt that way" Jon replied; somewhat stunned that Davos saw him that way.

"Don't expect any more heartfelt speeches anytime soon" Davos chuckled.

"I won't" Jon smiled back satisfied by his answer.

"I hope you'll know the finer joys of Fatherhood someday Jon" Davos smiled and patted Jon on the shoulder.

"Me too…now if you'll excuse me Davos; I have preparations of my own to see to" Jon patted Davos on the shoulder before leaving the Onion Knight alone with his thoughts.

"Someday…may be sooner than you think lad" Davos muttered under his breath.

* * *

"Just be sure you all stay safe when the time comes. Jon has assured me there are ways out if things go sour; secret passage ways out of the keep and into the woods to the west" Daenerys said as she walked beside Missandei through the halls.

"Things won't come to that your grace; I have faith in you and Lord Snow…Lord Targaryen?" Missandei wondered how to formerly address Jon now he certainly wasn't a Snow, these Westerosi naming conventions were too complicated for her tastes.

"…Jon is fine" Dany smiled.

"Jon…I'm sure you and Jon can win this. I have faith in you, him, Grey Worm and the Unsullied. The Northerners themselves can put up quite a fight too" Missandei replied with a small smile.

"Taking a liking to them, are we?" Dany asked with a raised brow.

"Some of them; two little ones in particular" Missandei smiled as she looked over to see Uma and Jory enthralled with Ghost; astounded at seeing Jon Snow's Direwolf up close.

"You two be sure to take care of Missandei, alright?" Daenerys asked with a warm smile.

"Yes, my Queen" Jory replied quickly; his rigid standing to attention reminding her so much of Grey Worm and the other Unsullied. Daenerys, Missandei and Uma all shared a short snicker at the young boy's imitation of the commander of the Unsullied. It made sense; Jory had been practically hanging off of Grey Worm's hip since meeting him; the Elite soldier quickly became a figure to look up to for the young lad especially after all the stories Missandei had told them.

"I'm glad I can trust you. If you keep this up, one day you may even end up becoming a Knight" Dany leaned down to Jory.

"Thank you, my Queen" Jory smiled brightly.

"Now run along; get something to eat while you can" Dany nodded to Missandei who took Jory and Uma's hands and left with them in tow.

Daenerys smiled as she watched her best friend leave with the two sweet little Northerners. It was a sweet and heart-warming sight that in this cold and frigid land, Missandei had found something she thought out of reach. A family. Dany could already see the way Uma and Jory looked at her friend and her Unsullied Paramour. A strange world were two Northern orphans found a future with a Translator from Naath and a former slave soldier from the summer isles.

"She seems to have taken to the climate" came a gruff and Northern Accented voice. Daenerys immediately turned to meet eyes with the man who was addressing her.

Standing there; leaning against a wall with his arms crossed was the now returned Patriarch of the Stark family himself, Benjen Stark. It still looked odd to her; she had seen Dragons, Warlocks and White Walkers, but the sight of the Half Dead Stark Lord was still an odd sight to behold. He wasn't quite dead and rotting, but he lacked that same warmth around him that living folk carried. He didn't smell of rot or decay and he still moved like a living man, but the blackened frostbitten hands and the scars marring him did unsettle her a bit.

"Your Grace" he bowed to Daenerys with a smile.

"Please; Lord Stark you don't have to do that" Daenerys said raising a hand.

"And you don't have to call me Lord Stark. My father Rickard was Lord Stark, so were my brothers Brandon and Ned and Ned's Sons after him. I'm simply Benjen Stark; the last First Ranger of the Night's Watch" Benjen smiled at the woman his nephew had fallen in love with.

"Very well Benjen" Daenerys said; Benjen's name rolling off her tongue as easily as it could.

"I wager the battle plans are still lingering in your mind. And while I also wager you would like some time alone in the cold winds; I know that even dragons can get cold and lonely" Benjen smiled as he stood beside Daenerys. The Stark of Winterfell held out his arm to the Dragon Queen in a gentlemanly fashion.

"Would you do me the honour of allowing me to escort you, your grace?" Benjen asked.

Dany didn't know what is was about Lord Benjen; he was a stranger to her; the Uncle of the love of her life but still a stranger. Yet he exuded an air of familial warmth that she couldn't deny was enticing, Jon had spoken about how his Uncle Benjen was his hero, how he was on the same level of familial love that Arya was. And Arya had proven how much of a loving sister she was to Jon, the added fact that Benjen was now the Patriarch of the Stark family made his approval all the more important.

"The Honour is mine Benjen" Dany smiled as she hooked her arm around Benjen's, allowing the Unliving man to escort her around his ancestral home. Dany already knew her way around; Jon had made sure to let her know what the grounds were like; and all the places he spent his childhood, but still she wanted to let his uncle have his fun.

"How is the North treating you?" Benjen asked as they walked, Ghost walking right beside Dany; now a dragon sandwiched between two direwolves, one literal and one figurative.

"Very well, it was cold and hard to settle within at first, but as Jon said, your home has managed to grow on me" Daenerys replied with a smile.

"I can't recall the last time a Targaryen walked upon the grounds of Winterfell. Whether It was king Jaehaerys and queen Alysanne, I can't tell…but no matter; this is still a great occasion, certainly one for the history books" Benjen smiled back at Daenerys.

The Dragon Queen and the Wolf Lord walked through the courtyards of Winterfell, exchanging idle chit chat, Benjen telling her the historical significance of certain places, telling her of how he and Ned would play as children, about how Lyanna would ride into the courtyard on horseback. She noticed the sad look in his eyes whenever he mentioned her; the sister the war had taken from him, the mother Jon had never known.

It wasn't long until he led her to a dark opening that seemed to lead underground; she was fairly certain this was the entrance to the crypts, she hadn't been down here yet on account that she didn't want to offend any of the Starks with her presence in resting place of the long gone Starks.

"The Crypts of Winterfell…would you like to see them?" Benjen asked; arms still linked with Daenerys.

"I wouldn't want to offend…"

"You won't…trust me" Benjen smiled warmly, placing one black hand on her arm.

Dany smiled back and allowed the Stark Lord to lead her down into the crypts; the air was still and cold and the darkness was fought off only by a select few torches that burned just brightly enough to barely see. At first glance it was a grim and unsettling place; dark and dreary and cold; just like she thought the North was when she first arrived.

But as she and Benjen walked further in; with Ghost following diligently besides her; she noticed something that changed her opinions quite drastically. The statues of the long departed Lords and Ladies of Winterfell filled her with a sense that this was a very special place; not like a grim graveyard or the miserable reminder of death she thought it would be, but a place where family rested; where you could somewhat be with them even after they had passed.

So many strange faces; yet they all carried the same Stark look she saw in Jon, in Arya, in Benjen. One even had a Direwolf resting at his heels and a very intimidating greatsword in his hands; Daenerys saw that this man had the bearing of a true Wolf Lord.

"My father, Rickard Stark" Benjen nodded at the mighty statue.

"He certainly looks…Lordly" Dany smiled sheepishly.

"He was strong, stern, fierce, a wolf in every regard. I miss him sometimes, but then again what son doesn't miss their father?" Benjen asked rhetorically as led Dany down the line.

"My brother…Eddard" Benjen nodded to the next statue.

"Jon's fa…" Dany stopped herself mid-word; still not understanding if she was treading on egg-shells with Benjen.

"Ned will always be his father, blood or not. As much as Jon is like Ned; I always knew he wasn't his son by blood" Benjen replied; softly stroking Dany's hand.

"You knew?" Dany asked with surprise in her voice.

"I never knew for sure…but I had large suspicions. I loved my sister, so did Ned; and I knew Ned wouldn't betray Cat by laying with someone behind her back…that was never his way. Ned took the secret of Jon's parentage to his grave" Benjen replied; gazing at the statue.

"I wish I could have met him…before he…" Daenerys said before hanging her head. She was not religious, but she did not want to incur the wrath of her love's ancestors by speaking so freely of them in their final resting place.

"He would have approved of you…you make Jon happy…happier than I've ever seen him before. You would not believe how much he used to brood and gloom whenever I came to visit" Benjen chuckled.

"Ned loved Jon like a son; and he would have died happy, knowing he left Jon in good hands" Benjen smiled at Daenerys. The Dragon Queen smiled happily as Benjen's words carried the softest sincerity they could.

"I hope I can live up to your expectations" Dany couldn't help but feel her emotions flare up. She felt the same fatherly aura from Benjen that she had felt from Ser Barristan and Ser Willem when they were both still alive; for some reason she felt she could trust him.

Benjen smiled back at Daenerys as warmly as he could; he then looked down beside her to see the giant white Direwolf sitting at her feet. He hadn't seen Ghost since the Direwolf was a pup; barley grown yet following Jon like a faithful companion. Now here the Direwolf was; fully grown if not still growing, Ghost would roughly be the size of a horse if he stood at his full height, but the Direwolf always seemed to shrink naturally as he walked through the halls.

Ghost was the sigil of house Stark; he was a mighty Direwolf; a beast of the North, and here he was sitting protectively at the feet of the last pure-blooded Targaryen. It was a strange image, one many would have a hard time believing; but something about the poeticism of it all felt right, that even after so long, after so much blood had been spilt between the two families of Stark and Targaryen, First Men and Valyrians, the Kings of Winter and the Dragonlords of Valyria; that they would ultimately end up exactly where they began; as a song of Ice and Fire.

Like Alden of the North, the First King of Winter and his beloved Dragon Queen Rhaella; it seemed fate had dealt its hand again in bringing a King of ice to his Bride of fire.

"You already have. You stood by him when he needed you; you held him when he needed to be held, and you've brought all the might of the east with you to help in the one war that matters. And for what it's worth; I think you will make an amazing Queen" Benjen smiled warmly.

"Thank you…Benjen" Dany returned his warm smile.

"Know that no matter what happens; you will always have a place here in Winterfell" Benjen smiled as Daenerys looked back at the statues of the other long dead Starks.

Benjen however couldn't stop his eyes from lowering to her belly; even though she wasn't beginning to show he could tell what was happening. Benjen knew of the life growing inside of Daenerys, that it shared the blood of both Dragon and Wolf like its father. That the union of Alden Stark and the first Rhaella Targaryen was an echo for what had come.

It was just like the Blood Raven had told him all those years ago. A child of Ice and Fire, when the Wall falls, when the snow covers the seat of Kings and all the armies of the North and South, West and East gather, the fate of everyone and everything will be decided upon the fate of that child.

But like the Old man had said many times, the Ink of the past had dried…but the ink of what was to come had yet to touch the pages.

'_The Starks of the past would welcome you here Daenerys; after all you carry our future within you'_ Benjen wanted to say so badly as he watched her gaze upon the visages of his long-departed family members. But it was net yet the time to tell her…soon he would; soon the time for the ultimate and final revelation would come, but not yet, they still had to take a stand, to witness the might of their enemy.

And bear the pain of an inevitable loss.

If they survived the night, he would tell her and Jon…but first they had to survive.

* * *

The dark and cold had just begun to set in; but two figures not of the North sat near the hearth in the main hall to avoid it all the same. The Lions of Casterly Rock, Jamie and Tyrion sat in front of the fire; wine goblets in their hands as they simply drank and di their best to get warm and chase away the pre-battle nerves. Tyrion had donned a simple breastplate beneath his clothes whilst Jamie's Northern style armour did little to reflect the fire light. After taking a particularly long swig of wine; Tyrion sighed.

"You would think after thousands of years to practise; that Northerners would learn how to make good wine" he said; gazing at the dregs of his wine in the goblet.

"I think they prefer ale up here" Jamie replied, their idle chit chat not having an ounce of real meaning. Jamie knew this sort of behaviour well; he had long since grown out of the nervous need to speak before a fight, but it seemed Tyrion had not.

"True…ah, the North, where the food is bland and tasteless and the woman are as cold and hard as the beds" Tyrion quipped; getting a small chuckle from Jamie.

"I'll admit it's not all that bad, and there are quite a few good women walking around recently. A man could do well for himself" Jamie raised a brow suggestively.

"Unfortunately, most of them are either taken or would want to see me dead before speaking to me. Daenerys and Missandei are taken by men that could kill me in a second, Arya Stark would probably gut me in my sleep if she could, and Sansa…well" Tyrion sighed.

"Sansa's not that bad…technically you are still married to her" Jamie leaned closer.

"She is a sweet girl, undeniably beautiful and any man would be lucky to have her. But I'm afraid she is too young for me and there are too many bad memories between us" Tyrion sighed before finishing his wine. Reaching for the flagon to continue pouring Tyrion seemed to have a melancholy tune about him.

"She was never a whore you know" Jamie said; earning a look from Tyrion.

"…Tysha…she was never a whore. Father made me lie to you…said you had better learn how cruel the world is the sooner the better…didn't want his blood sullied with common blood" Jamie continued; hurt in his voice as he confessed to his little brother. The common woman who loved Tyrion; that looked past his small stature and saw a good man; that Tywin disgraced and had his men rape in order to prove a cruel point to the son he hated.

A secret Jamie had been forced to keep; a secret he feared as it may have broken Tyrion if told at the wrong moment. But with death looming over them; Tyrion deserved the truth, and Jamie was tired of keeping secrets and lying to his blood. if they were to die tonight, then Jamie Lannister would go with a clean conscience.

"I know" Tyrion replied quietly.

"You…You knew?" Jamie asked.

"I did…I suppose I always knew in a way…that's one of the many curses of being clever; you think too much…" Tyrion took a sip of wine "I had always suspected something amiss in my heartbreak, in my constant drinking and whoring to dull the pain. Even when I fell for Shae, when she stood at my trial, when I killed her, when I had Father at crossbow point…I always knew in a way" Tyrion took another sip of wine.

"Why tell me now? Why not tell me when you rescued me? Why not any other point than now?" Tyrion asked.

"We may be dead soon, and all those times I was scared of hurting you more than you had already been hurt" Jamie admitted before taking a sip of his own wine.

"Do you have any idea where she is? Did father ever tell you?" Tyrion asked looking at the wine in his goblet.

"I asked him once…he said she went 'wherever whores go'" Jamie admitted with a sigh.

"He may have been our father…but he really did excel at being a cunt" Tyrion grit his teeth.

"…he did…I'm sad to say I inherited that much from him" Jamie replied.

"Well…you lied to me…and I killed father…I think this makes us even, don't you think?" Tyrion asked with a small and sad grin.

"I think so" Jamie smiled sadly back.

"To the proud Lannister brothers…the Dwarf that killed his father and the cripple that fucked his sister" Tyrion smiled as he raised his goblet; Jamie couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter as he held his goblet up.

"To the dishonourable Kingslayer and the Bastard Imp of Casterly Rock" Jamie chuckled as his wine spilled to the floor.

"Long may we wallow" Tyrion laughed.

"Long may we wallow!" Jamie laughed as they clinked their goblets together in a show of their acceptance.

After taking long drinks and refilling their goblets; Jamie and Tyrion looked back at the fire. The crackling of the wood giving them some comfort in the solidifying of their brotherly bond.

"I wish father were here" Tyrion said; breaking the laughter. Jamie turned and looked at his brother with a look of incredulity.

"I would give anything to see the look on his face when he realizes his two sons are about to die defending Winterfell. The last in the line of his 'Legacy' dying in the North while his daughter goes insane in the south…imagine his face" Tyrion grinned.

Even Jamie couldn't deny the mere thought of Tywin's fury and incredulity would be the stuff of legends; if he didn't shit gold on the privy, he certainly would have at the sight of them fighting at Winterfell. Jamie couldn't help let out a snort of laughter.

"Now that…would certainly be something to see" he admitted with a nod and a smile.

"Do you remember the first time we came here? I was a drunken Whoremonger and you were proud Golden Lion with two functioning hands…gods it was simple back then" Tyrion smiled.

"It wasn't so simple…I was sleeping with my sister and you had one friend in the world…who was sleeping with his sister" Jamie replied.

"I was speaking in relative terms" Tyrion took another sip of wine.

"Do you miss it?" Jamie asked.

"What kind of question is that? Of course I miss it…the constant drinking and bedding women left right and centre; living every day as if it was my last…now it really may be my last and there is not a woman in sight that would want to sleep with me…and the only one I want is probably hundreds of miles away" Tyrion sighed.

"Well at least you still have wine" Jamie raised his goblet to Tyrion.

"Yes…at least I still have wine" Tyrion smiled back before taking a sip.

"What will you do…if we survive this…if we beat them back then go south and take the throne for your new Queen and her maybe King?" Jamie asked.

"An hour ago I would have said I would advise her and Jon on how to rule…but after my recent blunders and this little revelation you gave me…I would probably look for her…search for her the world over and beg her forgiveness for not going to her sooner" Tyrion replied as he looked at his goblet "And you?"

"I don't think I have much of a future to look forward to…I suppose I'll simply wait and see what comes next" Jamie sighed in reply.

"Taking things slow? That's certainly a change from the arrogant Knight I knew growing up" Tyrion smiled.

"A change I welcome" Jamie smiled back.

"To the Perils of self-betterment" Tyrion raised his goblet again.

"May we be better than the shits we used to be" Jamie smiled in agreement as they both drank from their goblets. Their drinking was brought to a halt when the doors opened; Jamie immediately sitting up to attention thinking it may be the women and children ready to fill the hall when the battle began, but instead both he and Tyrion were met with the forms of Lady Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne.

"My Lady" Jamie greeted; Tyrion giving him a knowing grin as he did.

"Oh…we didn't mean to interrupt; we were just looking for somewhere warm to…" Brienne began until Tyrion cut in.

"To contemplate your imminent death and the destruction of the known world…you've come to the right place" Tyrion walked over to the bench to retrieve another flagon of wine "Want some of this horse piss? It's not good but it's not terrible either"

"Thank you, Milord" Podrick smiled; immediately accepting Tyrion's offer.

"I'm not sure that would be best. The battle could begin at any minute and you shouldn't be drunk for it" Brienne warned.

"Just a little to calm the nerves?" Tyrion offered.

"...Half a cup" Brienne sighed with a roll of her eyes. She thankfully didn't notice Tyrion fill Pod's goblet to the brim before handing it to him with a smile. "And you My Lady?" Tyrion asked.

"No thank you; I should get some sleep at the very least" Brienne replied.

"Do you honestly see any of us sleeping tonight?" Jamie asked as he got a couple of chairs ready for Brienne and Pod "Join us" he offered.

"…Alright…just a bit" Brienne nodded.

Tyrion prepared a goblet for Brienne; only filling it half of the way. But when he handed it off to her, he noticed a couple more figures entering the room. it was none other than the Onion Knight himself, Davos Seaworth and that man who Tyrion assumed was the Wildling leader, Tormund Giantsbane.

"Well what have we here?" Davos asked.

"Ser Davos! Please join us!" Tyrion offered.

"No thank you; the fire is what I'm here for" Davos began to warm himself by the hearth "Figured I could wait to die freezing my balls off outside or wait to die nice and warm in here. Usually I would prepare for battle with a nice long walk by myself but…unfortunately there aren't that many places to go" he said as Tormund circled around; his eyes fixed on Brienne.

Tormund wasn't a very subtle man.

"It could be our last night in this world you know?" Tormund said with his eyes wide and expecting.

"Yes, well I'm glad you're here…" she replied; immediately noticing how he would take that comment "…Here, fighting with us, glad you survived the attack at Eastwatch" she immediately corrected herself.

"Would you like a drink?" Tyrion offered.

"Nah, brought my own" Tormund shook his capped drinking horn around.

"Good man" Tyrion smiled.

"Sour Goats milk…much better than that grape water you are sucking on. Gets you nice and warm and buzzed, all ready for a fight…or other activities" he waggled his brows at Brienne before shifting his eyes to Jamie.

"So…you are the one they call King Killer?" Tormund looked at Jamie with an intense stare.

"I'm…fairly sure someone has called me that" Jamie replied with a raised brow of confusion.

"They call me Giantsbane…want to know why?" Tormund asked.

Jamie glanced to Tyrion with a look that basically said _'Is this guy for real?'_ and the look Tyrion gave him in return pretty much said the same thing.

"I can wager a guess…but I suppose you are going to tell me anyway" Jamie replied as Tormund got his own chair and took a seat.

"I killed a Giant when I was ten…then I climbed right into bed with his wife…" Pretty much everyone in the room looked at Tormund with the same look of confusion Jamie had given him a moment before "…when she woke up…you know what she did?" he asked.

Jamie slowly shook his head.

"…Suckled me at her teat…for three months; thought I was her babe" Tormund grinned like a madman "That's how I got so strong…Giant's Milk" Tormund said with a look of accomplishment and pride before uncorked his horn and began loudly chugging down his goat's milk; the drinking spilling down the sides of his face; into his beard, his furs and the floor as he breathed through his nose to keep chugging.

Tyrion was the only one that didn't have a look of confusion on his face; the man knew how to drink that was for sure. Tyrion nodded and gave an impressed look; then again Tyrion was feeling ever so slightly tipsy by now.

"…I…Think I'll have that drink now" Davos said with a raised brow.

* * *

As men readied themselves for the great war, Sam found himself walking along the battlements in search of a particular man. In his arms he carried Heartsbane; the ancestral Valyrian Steel Longsword of House Tarly; it was a sword he would have great trouble using, not to mention the steel would be wasted on such a poor swordsman. Sam would have given Heartsbane to Jon if his friend didn't already have Longclaw and a fire breathing dragon for the fight to come.

But even then; Sam knew that Jorah deserved this sword for more than the fact that he was a skilled swordsman.

As Sam walked along the battlements, he saw Ser Lyle Crakehall updating his lieutenants on the cavalry formations they would need to use to capitalize on in their fight. He saw Bronn the mercenary enjoying a drink with some of the Northern Soldiers as they readied themselves for what was coming. He even saw Gendry Waters, the bastard son of Robert Baratheon finish piecing together some Dragonglass weapons at the last second.

That was when Sam spotted the man he was looking for, in deep…debate? No…argument with his cousin, the ferocious young She-Bear Lyanna Mormont. They were both clad in their Mormont styled armour; the only difference being the dragons on the pauldrons of Jorah's armour.

"You are the future of our House Lyanna, you cannot risk your life so wilfully like this!" Jorah argued.

"I swore to defend the North. To defend our home with every breath I have. What kind of Mormont would I be if I hid behind the skirts of others as they fight and die?" Lyanna argued back.

"The spirits of our ancestors would never forgive me if I didn't do everything to protect you! I failed our house once, and I refuse to do so again!" Jorah almost snarled back.

"I won't cower with the women and children…I am a Mormont of Bear Island…we may not be the largest house or the strongest, but we are not cowards or weaklings, we are Bears…while these southerners and Essosi are strong and numerous…we will not flee…we may not number in the hundreds of thousands…we are a house of 60 fighting men and women…yet here we stand" Lyanna replied; her voice near trembling as she spoke.

Jorah couldn't help but smile with pride. Lyanna was scared; he could see…only fools and idiots wouldn't be scared before a fight like this. But like a great Northern Wolf Lord said; when a man is scared is the only time he can be brave. Lyanna may have been a young girl; not even in her prime yet…but she was brave, she may have been small and young…but she had the heart of a Northern Bear. Jeor, Meage and the other late Mormonts would be so proud of her; that their house lay in good hands.

Jorah would do his part as well as she did.

"Yet here we stand" Jorah smiled as Lyanna's expression slowly turned to a smile.

"Go, do your duties" Lyanna shooed the other Mormont men with her off to do their jobs, leaving her and Jorah alone. When they were gone; Lyanna dove into Jorah's arms and he wrapped her in a familial embrace.

"Stay alive Cousin" Lyanna whispered in the crook of his neck.

"You too" he smiled against his only living blood before pressing a kiss to her head.

"I wish you good fortune" Lyanna smiled.

"Thank you, My Lady" Jorah nodded.

The two bears broke apart; and as Lyanna went to check on her men and their preparations; Jorah noticed the approaching form of Samwell Tarly; carrying a Sword that looked leagues too big for him.

"Ser Jorah!" Sam called getting the attention of the Knight who had already spotted him.

"Samwell…what have you got there?" He asked with a raised brow; Samwell wasn't thinking about fighting, was he?

"It's called Heartsbane, It's my Family's sword but…"

"You still have a family…a woman and a little boy" Jorah replied.

"Yes, and I would love to defend them with it…But I can't really hold it up right, and a sword like this would be wasted on a poor fighter like me" Sam gathered his breath as Jorah gave him a sympathetic look.

"Your father…the Lord Commander…he taught me how to be a man, how to do what's right…and I know this is right…" Sam told Jorah; the cold breath of the large man fogging up around them.

"It's Valyrian Steel…I'd be honoured if you take it" Sam held the sword to Jorah.

The Bear Knight took the sword and partially unsheathed it. The ripples along the edge of the blade; the beautiful craftsmanship of the crossguard and the hilt was unlike any other blade Jorah had ever seen. Even Longclaw paled in comparison to the beauty of this sword; and here Samwell the last Tarly was offering it to him to use on the battlefield.

He had relinquished his claim on the Valyrian steel sword House Mormont; but he would redeem his name to the spirits of his forefathers and ancestors by wielding the sword of House Tarly. To defend the peoples of the North, South, East and West. A Shield like his father was in his final days.

"I'll wield it in his memory…" Jorah said; tears threatening to fall at the gesture that the offering of this sword entailed "…To guard the realms of men" he smiled.

Sam smiled at Jorah's words; touched at the sentiment behind them.

"Lord Tarly!" came a familiar voice. Both Sam and Jorah turned to see the Dragon Queen herself approaching; Ghost following her dutifully and two Unsullied close behind her.

"My Queen" Jorah bowed in respect.

"Your Grace" Sam bowed; still not sure what to think about Daenerys.

"I was hoping to catch you before the battle. I have a favour to ask of you" Daenerys spoke with his hands clasped in front of her.

"A favour your grace?" Sam asked; Jorah's brow arching.

"I…I know I have no right to ask anything more of you than what you are willing to give. After what you've done for Ser Jorah and therefore me…leaves me in your debt…after what I've done to you, I don't deserve to ask this of you but…I must" Daenerys explained; the words leaving her mouth with a heavy tone.

"Your Grace?" Sam asked; confused at how she was acting.

"There will be people in the halls who mean a great deal to me. I ask that you look out for them; and if things get dire…to defend them" Daenerys looked to one of the Unsullied who passed her a pair of Dragonglass daggers.

"I know you wish to fight…but I ask you to defend them in the halls; I don't assume to command you; I know Jon trusts you and he says you are a good man. You saved Ser Jorah, my most stalwart protector…I only ask you do this one thing, and I am in your debt" Dany held the pair of daggers to Sam.

Sam was stunned at this gesture; the way she spoke; how she obviously blamed herself for his now lack of a family, she cared for her people, for Jorah, for the people who would be hiding in the halls. She couldn't be the monster he thought her to be; he had to give her the benefit of the doubt, to prove she was a good person.

"I'll do my best, your grace" Sam nodded.

"Thank you, Sam" Dany smiled; her eyes wet at the acceptance of her request.

"I'll see you both…when this is over" Sam nodded to both Jorah and his Queen.

They all hoped that they would; as the night grew colder and the winds blew harsher; as the harbingers of death marched closer by the minute. No one in Winterfell would rest easily tonight as they knew the Long Night approached faster and faster. Soon the armies of the dead would be upon them; but until then they had a few more hours.

A few more hours of peace, to say what they needed to say, to do what they needed to do.

**NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE THE LAST CHAPTER BEFORE THE LONG NIGHT; STILL ONE OR TWO THINGS TO WRAP UP.**

**Also. Before anyone says it, yes, the scene between Jorah and Lyanna was different to how it was originally presented. Now I want you all to know, I love Lyanna as a character and how blunt and courageous she is. But remember, no matter how badass she is…she is still a fucking child; and these are the end times…the stuff of nightmares that parents tell their children about. Of course, she is going to be afraid; all the grown ass men are afraid. So before you go accusing me of making her seem weak I refer you back to the words of Ned Stark "When a Man is afraid…it's the only time he can be brave" and good luck finding someone braver than Lyanna fucking Mormont.**

**As always be sure to tell me what you thought in the form of a lengthy review. What you liked, what you didn't, what you think could have been done better, the more detailed the better.**

**As always be sure to send support to my good friend Longclaw 1_6 who has helped me like no other in this short and crazy journey I've been on. **

**This is Dakkaman777 signing out. **


	12. Before the Plunge

**Hi EVERYBODY! Just a little heads up; as this may be important. The wait between this chapter and the battle of Winterfell will be a little longer because the battle of Winterfell itself will be several chapters long; and I want it all written down before publishing it. **

**So, I hope this chapter will hold you all down before the battle itself begins.**

**ALSO: The Author by the name of "Alive to Live a Lie" had published the first chapter of the Spanish translation of this story! (Thank you very much for that my friend) So to all my Spanish speaking readers; so ahead and check it out Mi Amigos. **

**Anyway, enough of me flapping my yapper, let's get on with the show. And before you guys ask, yes, this chapter's title and last chapter's title are a LOTR reference. **

**Chapter 12: Before the Plunge**

The sounds of men chatting and drinking below in the courtyard would have sounded good to any man around this point; but Sandor Clegane had little use for gathering around campfires; he would rather sat on the battlements and watch the mist in his breath exude into the cold air around him. Fire never gave him comfort and tonight wasn't going to be different.

However; he was interrupted in his thoughts by the approach of the most unlikely of people; a girl he had thought never wanted anything to do with him ever again.

Arya Stark; the Wild Wolf of Winterfell. Hardly a lady; and certainly, a hardened killer by the look in her eyes. Stabbing a few Frey Wretches and killing a couple of downed Lannister men didn't leave the same glint in your eyes as the one she had. She had definitely been busy since he last saw her.

"Mind if I sit down?" Arya asked.

"It's your fucking castle, girl" Sandor muttered in reply. Arya sat down next to the hulking figure of the hound; despite the years that had gone by the size difference between the two hadn't changed much.

"Not my castle; my family's" Arya replied.

"Lucky you; the only family I have left is my cunt brother…and he can keep his fucking castle, it always smelt of dogshit and piss" Sandor muttered back.

A few moments of silence passed as Arya didn't seem to want to contribute much to the conversation Sandor was hoping to start. He had missed the Wolf girl; that much was for certain, but it was obvious that she had changed quite a bit in terms of mood as well as looks.

"There used to be a time I couldn't get you to shut the fuck up…now you just sit there like a Mute" Sandor sighed.

"What do you want me to talk about?" Arya replied.

"Anything; it would beat the fucking silence" Sandor huffed.

"…Do you ever regret it?" Arya asked.

"Regret what?"

"The things you've done? Killing Mycah, stealing from the farmer and his daughter, do I have to go on?" Arya asked.

"…Would you believe me if I said every day?" Sandor asked; meeting eyes with Arya. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him and gave a satisfied Hmm.

"That it? Hmm?" Sandor asked.

"I believe you" Arya replied as she lay back against the wall.

"…But why are you here? Ready to fight with us; I was certain if you had survived you would fled over to Essos the first chance you got…why fight?" Arya asked.

Sandor's reply was just a tilted head and a glance at her "Do you really need to ask that, little Wolf?"

No more words needed to be exchanged at that point. Arya was extraordinarily good at reading people ever since her training in Braavos. The scarred man sat beside her was not the same foul-mouthed animal she had known all those years ago. Yes, he was still scarred; still foul-mouthed and could probably still fight like an animal. But he seemed calmer; less like rabid dog let off its leash and more like…a faithful hound.

She smiled at that thought.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. It's like you are coming out of the fucking walls" Sandor grumbled as another familiar figure approached. Beric's only reply was to pull out a wineskin; and by the sound of it sloshing about it was full.

"Alright, you can stay" Sandor replied as Beric tossed the wineskin to Sandor before sitting down.

"Lady Stark; it's good to see you again. I'm sorry we parted the way we did" Beric nodded his head to Arya.

"Remind me, is he on your list?" Sandor asked.

"He was…until I realized I didn't want to waste my time" Arya replied. Really what was she thinking; adding a man who had already died six times to her death list; besides…Beric looked like roadkill anyway; his rusted armour and scarred and weary features dimly lit by torchlight.

"That's just fine with me. I know how worthless I am. In the eyes of the Lord of Light, I am little more than a…"

"I hope you aren't about to give a sermon Beric. Because if you are the Lord of Light is going to wonder why he brought you back seventeen times just to die when I chuck you over this fucking wall" Sandor pointed a thumb to the wall behind him. Beric only smiled in reply to the little outburst.

"Thoros was better at the preaching anyway" Sandor muttered before taking a swig of his wineskin and chucking it to Beric.

Arya took a moment before taking a deep breath and standing up.

"Where are you going?" Sandor asked.

"I don't want to spend my final hours sitting here with you two miserable old shits" Arya replied before making her swift exit. She had a certain Blacksmith to catch up with after all.

"She takes after her Aunty" came a voice from the opposite entrance. Beric and Sandor meeting eyes with Benjen as he stood there; how long he was standing there no one would know; Rangers of the Night's Watch knew how to be silent as shadows.

"Lord Stark" Beric nodded with respect.

"Lord Dondarrion" Benjen nodded back.

"You gentlemen mind if I join you?" Benjen asked.

"It's your cas…oh fuck it, have a seat" Sandor pointed to one of the nearby boxes. Benjen sat down and clasped his blackened hands in front of him as he did.

"Why aren't you down below with your men?" Beric asked before taking a swig from the skin.

"I'd just unsettle them. They may welcome me home and call me Lord Stark, but I can see the unease in their eyes when they look at me. I'm not a normal man…I haven't been for a long time" Benjen explained before his melancholy expression turned into a smile.

"So, I thought I should wait here; with the other dead men" he smiled at Beric and Sandor.

The man who almost died only to live through his constitution and hatred, the man who had died and been brought back six times in the name of the Lord of Light for reasons unknown, and the man who died once…but never quite came back all the way.

Three dead men, waiting on the walls for the army of the dead they would soon face…sounded like a good song.

* * *

The fire roared as the unlikely group sat around it; drinks in hand and eyes gazing at the flames as they crackled and consumed the log that had been placed upon the hearth. Tyrion contemplated those sat around him and their place in Winterfell with a smirk; he found it fitting he should be the one to break the silence.

"It's funny"

"What is?" Davos asked.

"Everyone in this room has fought the Starks in one way or another…yet here we are, in their ancestral home, ready to defend it" Tyrion chuckled to himself.

"At least we'll die with honour" Brienne held her head high. Pod slowly nodded in agreement; while Jamie only looked upon the blonde-haired warrior woman that he had so much admiration for. She was everything he failed to be; while he was given everything on a plate, she had to work for it.

"I think we'll live" Tyrion admitted.

Needless to say, Davos, Podrick and Tormund burst into laughing at the incredulity of surviving a battle with the vast hordes of the Undead.

"I do. Really, think about it. We have two dragons on our side, the greatest foot soldiers in the world and the greatest mounted knights and warriors in the world. And even if not, between us how many battles have we survived?" Tyrion asked before pointing a finger to Davos.

"Ser Davos Seaworth, a survivor of both the Battle of the Blackwater and the Battle of the Bastards"

"Both without a shred of combat ability" Davos replied; Tormund giving a loud hum of agreement to the Smuggler's amusement.

"Ser Jamie Lannister, fabled hero of the siege of Pike" Tyrion raised his goblet.

"Fabled loser of the battle of Whispering wood!" Jamie toasted as he stood up to refill his goblet.

"Here, here, Robb Stark really gave us a thrashing that day" Tyrion chuckled.

"Now that I'm standing in Winterfell, I can say that he was a dam good military leader…died far before his time. Wish I could have made amends with him to be honest, even if I he wanted to cut my head off" Jamie chuckled as he put his goblet down on the bench.

"And let's not forget, Ser Brienne of Tarth, defeated the Hound in sin…Pardon me, Lady Brienne" Tyrion amended what he was saying.

"She's not a Ser? You're not a Knight?" Tormund asked with a dumbfounded expression.

"No, women can't be knights" Brienne replied.

"Why?" Tormund asked with a confused brow.

"Tradition" Brienne replied sadly.

"Fuck Tradition" Tormund replied curtly.

"I didn't really want to be a knight" Brienne shook it off. Trying to convince herself that what she had said wasn't a flat out lie to herself and everyone present. However, the look Podrick gave her was quick to let her know her lie wasn't to be taken seriously. Pod knew better than anyone there how much Brienne desired to be called Ser and not Lady.

"I'm no king, but if I were, I would knight you ten time over" Tormund grinned. Brienne couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. Yes, the man smelled like something had died on him, and had all the manners and dignity of a goat, but…it was a sweet compliment.

"You don't need a King…" Jamie spoke up; all eyes turning to him.

"…Any Knight…can make another Knight" Jamie said; looking to Brienne and then smiling "Here, I'll prove it" he said, unsheathing Widow's Wail and walking over to the open space; placing the tip of his sword against the floor.

"Kneel, Lady Brienne" Jamie announced.

Brienne rolled her eyes as if dismissing it as a joke, one of the many jokes Jamie pulled at her expense, that it was simply the wine talking. But when he said "Do you want to be a Knight or not?" with the upmost seriousness in his tone; it dawned on her; he wasn't joking.

"Kneel" he said simply. Brienne looked to Podrick and he gave her the slightest of nods; his eyes silently saying 'Go on, you deserve this'. Without another word; the Lady of Tarth stood up; leaving her goblet behind as she walked over to Jamie facing him. The crackling of the fire the only sound breaking up the silence before everyone else stood to their feet for this moment.

Brienne slowly bend down to one knee; her left hand gripping the hilt of Oathkeeper and her right hand behind her waist. Jamie's hand gripped Widow's Wail as he raised it to Brienne's right shoulder; softly placing the Valyrian steel blade on her armoured pauldron.

"In the name of the Warrior…I charge you to be brave"

She had proven her bravery countless times; an easy challenge to meet. Jamie raised Widow's Wail to Brienne's left shoulder.

"In the name of the Father…I charge you to be Just"

She had proven to be Just, far more just than he could ever be. He raised his sword back to her right shoulder.

"In the name of the Mother…I charge you to defend the Innocent"

As Jamie said the words; Podrick smiled with pride as Brienne could barely register what he had done for her. She was getting what she had wanted for so long; recognition, respect, to be treated as more than just a large woman wielding a sword. She was a Knight, a defender of the Innocent, a protector of those who could not defend themselves.

"Arise Brienne of Tarth…A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms" Jamie smiled with pride.

As Brienne rose to her feet, she heard the silence break with the sounds of clapping. Low and behold, there was Tormund Giantsbane; smile stretched across his face and clapping his hands like a bloody madman. Podrick began clapping, soon joined by Ser Davos; and of course, Tyrion raised his goblet to her.

"Ser Brienne of Tarth! Knight of the Seven Kingdoms!" he cheered.

As the clapping continued, she looked to Jamie; the simple nod he gave her was more than enough for her as she afforded herself to smile brightly. It took the final war between the living and the dead for her to become what she had always wanted to be. Ever since she first picked up a sword and swung it with her strong arms.

She was finally a Knight.

* * *

"And you're certain it will fit?" Jon asked as he held the large bagged object in his hands.

"It was simple to make; really it was just a matter of making it lighter and more flexible; I was the apprentice to the best armourer in King's Landing" Gendry replied with pride.

"Thank you, Gendry, and good luck" Jon smiled and clapped a hand on Gendry's shoulder.

"You too Jon" Gendry smiled back as Jon left the smiting table with the object in his hands.

Gendry smiled; happy for his former fellow Bastard. He could tell that even now at the end of everything that Jon was happy. He was Trueborn; in love with one of the most beautiful women in the world, he had a purpose, something very few bastards seldom gained.

"What was that?" came a familiar voice from behind him.

"Seven Hells! How…How do you do that?" Gendry almost had a heart attack from the shock.

Arya just smiled and titled her head "Plenty of Practise" she replied with a smirk.

"So, what did you make for Jon?" Arya asked with intrigue as she walked around Gendry's table and inspected many of the tools, he would use for his blacksmith work.

"You'll find out when you see it" Gendry replied; taking one of his tools out of Arya's hands.

"Now was there something you wanted to talk about?" Gendry asked.

"What? On the verge of death? No, I just wanted to waste time with chit chat…." Arya tilted her head and smiled at him.

Gods she was feisty. Arya had been a little spitfire back in the day when they were on the run from the Gold Cloaks and the Lannisters; but by the seven she had turned into a wild she-wolf. Gendry saw her as a friend before; but even back then he could only see her as little more than a child compared to him. That wasn't the case now; she had matured into a young woman in the time they had been apart.

And Arya would have been lying if she said her eyes hadn't been wandering whilst watching his work the forges for the past few days. Getting a cheeky little glance as his taught muscles every time he swung a hammer, seeing him flex whenever he practised with his war maul. She had never been one to admire the boys from afar, that was always a thing ladies did with their lords and princes, but her thoughts about the Blacksmith were far from Ladylike.

"…I wanted to see if my weapon was ready" Arya replied seriously this time; hopping up to sit herself on the edge of the table.

"Ah, just a bit" Gendry held a finger up before walking over to another nearby bench and pulling out another object wrapped in bundles of leather.

"One…whatever you would call this" Gendry replied; handing the bundle to Arya. The Wild Wolf stepped forwards with her hands behind her back and leaned forward to inspect it. Gendry's brow arched as he expected Arya to take it from him; but instead she looked up and met gazes with him.

"Come on" Arya turned and began to walk away.

"Come on where?" Gendry asked with a confused look on his face as he followed the she-wolf to wherever in seven hells she was leading him.

"You'll see…I want a word in private" Arya replied quickly and to the point with a look cast over her shoulder.

After a couple of minutes of walking the two of them found themselves in a small alcove; quite deep within the bowels of the castle; well lit by torchlight and quite warm to be honest. Gendry wondered why many of the soldiers hadn't chosen this place to hunker down before the battle began. Arya quickly hopped on top of a large pile of grain sacks, the Targaryen sigil branded on the burlap bags, obviously food supplied by the Dragon Queen.

"Well? Let's see it" Arya asked; gesturing to the package he was still holding.

Gendry smirked before taking the finished weapon out of its bag; Gendry had made sure to put small leather sheaths on the blades on each end of the odd weapon that Arya had instructed him to make.

"Wasn't too hard to make; getting the balance just right was the trickiest bit, but it should work just fine" Gendry held in out; balancing it on his forefinger and middle finger to show off the balance.

"You're bragging again" Arya smirked as she leaned forward.

"It's called being a salesman. If you don't learn to really make folks want your weapons and armour on the street of steel, you may as well go hungry" Gendry shrugged as he tossed the weapon to Arya; which she caught like a pro.

"Nice Reflexes" Gendry nodded, impressed.

Arya just smiled as she hopped off the grain sacks and began twirling the bo-staff around; seeing how well it moved in her hands. She had to admit, even though Gendry had never made a weapon like this it was extraordinarily well made.

"Any reason you wanted to talk in private?" Gendry asked with his arms crossed.

"I didn't want any nosy pricks getting curious" Arya replied quickly.

"I can relate to that" Gendry smirked as he leaned back against the small wall of grain sacks. Arya couldn't help but let her eyes wander and take a glance at the way his lean muscles showed even beneath his leathers.

"What have you been doing since the red woman took you?" Arya asked; regretting never asking Gendry when they first reunited.

"At first it wasn't that bad. I was fed, clothed, got to taste some of the best wine I've ever tasted…" Gendry started; scratching the back of his neck.

"She didn't strip down and suck your cock, did she?" Arya chuckled as she twirled her staff.

"…not quite" Gendry swore he felt himself go a bit red at her bluntness. Arya turned to him and raised a brow; a jealous brow from what Gendry could tell.

"What did the bitch do?" Arya asked; more aggressively than she wanted.

"…She stripped down; threw me onto the bed…" Gendry started; Arya getting angry on the inside as she gripped her staff tight; imagining impaling the Red Woman through the gizzard with it.

"…Tied me down and put leeches on me" Gendry admitted. Arya's angry scowl turned to one of confusion.

"Leeches? Any reason why?" she asked; confused.

"She needed my blood…for something, blood magic I suppose" Gendry shrugged.

"And what…she let you go?" Arya asked; a very unlikely answer from her point of view.

"No…she was going to have me killed…sacrificed to her god. King Stannis would have let her too; if not for Ser Davos" Gendry smiled; thinking of the night the brave and noble Onion Knight saved his life from the Red Witch.

"Remind me to thank him" Arya smiled; her scowl disappearing from her face. She knew that whatever the reasons the Red Witch did what she did were not going to be pleasant. In what situation would if be pleasant to be sold to someone like an object or livestock?

"What did you do after?" Arya asked.

"A lot of rowing, and a lot of forging" Gendry replied with a smirk "I returned to the Street of Steel; perfected my craft, I even learned a few extra tricks from my old master. I wasn't his little dogsbody anymore; and he was getting old, I even learned how to rework Valyrian Steel" Gendry smiled with the upmost pride.

"Wow…I'm impressed" Arya smiled knowingly.

"And what about you?" Gendry asked.

"Travelled with the Hound for a while, went to Braavos to train with the faceless men…Killed a lot of people" Arya said bluntly. Gendry could only stand there with a blank look on his face; part of him wanting to laugh it off as a joke but another part knowing that the world was much less simple than he had first thought it was all those years ago when they parted.

"Well…you seemed to turn out all right" Gendry tried to make a joke out of it.

"You too" Arya smiled back as she set down her staff.

"You never told me what they were like…what to expect" Arya said as she hopped back up on the gran sacks; Gendry's head now level with her waist as he leaned back. "You fought them, besides Jon, North of the Wall"

"I did"

"And?"

"They're…Bad…really bad" Gendry remembered the sights he saw when fighting them.

"Really Bad?" Ayra asked with a curved brow "Even a Smith's apprentice can do better than 'Really bad' what do they look like, how do they smell, how do they move? How hard are they to kill?"

"Look…" Gendry turned from his position to face her fully "I know you aren't scared of rapists or bandits or thieves or anything like that…but this is different. They aren't like anything the real world can prepare you for; they are death, plain and simple. They don't move like men; they don't care about their lives; they're just…bad" Gendry tried his best to explain.

Arya just watched his facial expressions as he explained; he was shaken from his experience with the dead; that much was certain. Gendry was not a weak-willed individual from what she knew, neither were Jon or the Hound for that matter. She wanted to look at them as just another list of names; but the more she heard of them the more she began to realize this threat wasn't going to be as trivial or as easy as killing the Freys.

"So…I should look out for how bad they are?" Arya smirked; getting a small chuckle from Gendry.

As Gendry Laughed; Arya looked not at his muscles or his lean physique built from all those hours hammering iron and steel at the forge. She looked at his face; as his smile, she listened to the sound of his laugh. In the dark period after her father was murdered; Gendry was a small light of comfort. He was always there for her when it counted; she had no doubt what kind of man he was, yes, he was lowborn and blunt and somewhat simple, but he was strong, honest, courageous and loyal.

He was a good man; and she hadn't forgotten the good times they shared in their travels together. Their time traveling with Yoren to the Night's Watch, their time trying to survive in and escape Harrenhall, their short travels with Hot Pie, their time with the Brotherhood. And the times she spent at night; thinking about what had happened to him; if he were alive or dead, if she would ever see him again.

"I missed you" she spoke out loud; getting his attention back.

Gendry only smiled at her before replying "Yeah, I missed you too"

"Tell me…did you ever…well…when you went back to King's Landing, did you ever…meet someone?" Arya asked as she hopped off the Grain sacks and over to a nearby table.

"I met plenty of people, King's Landing is a big place" Gendry replied. Arya shook her head; he really could be simple sometimes.

"That's now what I meant" Arya cast him a look over her shoulder as she took off her gloves.

"Oh…Uh…no, not really. I mean there were one or two girls…"

"One or two?" Arya asked; her ability to spot a lie blaring to her like an alarm claxon.

"…Four" Gendry admitted to Arya arching her eyebrow before she took off her weapon belt.

"I didn't do it with her…the Red Woman; if that's what you are worried about. How about you? You have someone special? Back in Braavos perhaps?" Gendry asked with an arched brow of his own.

"No" Arya replied quickly and to the point.

"Really? I find that hard to believe" Gendry replied.

"No…no one" Arya replied firmly this time as she reached down and began unbuckling her boots.

"…What are you doing?" Gendry asked as he finally noticed what she was doing.

"Do you really have to ask that?" Arya turned with a raised brow before she approached Gendry until she was an inch away from him; the height difference between the two of them now Stark in contrast.

Arya wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down to whisper in his ear "You would think when a Girl starts to strip, a Boy would know what it meant…" Arya's tone went husky and breathy "…Or were the last four girls not that good?" Gendry swore that his breeches were not that tight before and her voice had never sounded quite that…sensual before.

But as she leaned back and locked eyes with him; all Gendry could do was stare in awe of how beautiful she looked in the fire light.

"Arya…"

"I've never been with anyone before…I don't want to die not knowing the warmth of another…" Arya began playing with the fastenings of his tunic as she spoke. Gendry felt his heart plummet a bit at those words; he thought there was a connection between them; not just that she wanted to get laid once before dying. Did all those moments and memories between them mean nothing anymore?

"…And there is no one whose warmth I would rather share, than yours, Gendry Waters" Arya said; starring deeply into his eyes. Gendry's blue orbs almost melting under the Iron grey gaze of the Wild wolf.

"Arya I…" Gendry barely had any time to finish when Arya's lips collided with his in a meeting of passion and fire. He lost all control over his body when Arya pushed him backwards onto a pile of Grain sacks; her stare turning from a sensitive and sensual one to the glare of a hungry she-wolf as she began pulling clothes off.

Gendry wanted to notice her lithe and well-trained petite body; but his eyes were drawn to the amount of grizzly looking scars adorning her. Whatever she had gone through in Braavos had left its marks on her, the same way all his years behind a forge left his arms and hands covered in burn scars and cuts.

"I'm not the Red Woman…take your own fucking pants off" Arya smiled at him as she began to undo her breeches. Gendry quickly began to comply under the orders of the She-Wolf as she glared at him like a huntress about to devour her very much willing prey.

Arya couldn't help but smile as Gendry took off his tunic; revealing his very well-toned abs and pecs; a few small scars of his own, perhaps from streets brawls or bar fights; not as noticeable as her scars but enough to add a certain masculine charm to him. Flicking back her shoulder length hair; Arya straddled the waist of the Baratheon bastard with all the enthusiasm that had earned her the name 'Wild Wolf'.

The Faceless men of Braavos had done their best to strip her of her identity, to turn her into a faceless husk like them. But Arya Stark still had that fiery passion that endeared her in the hearts of everyone she grew up with. Gendry gasped as he felt her skin touch his; for a well-trained assassin, her skin was as smooth as the finest silk.

Yes, those Brothel girls may have spoken dirtier or dressed more provocatively; but Arya Stark was leagues better than all of them combined; she wasn't just some back-alley Sally that you could take for a quick ride. She was the one calling the shots as she leaned in to bite his neck with all the possessiveness of a She-Wolf.

"You are taking too long" she borderline snarled in his ear before taking his ear lobe between her teeth.

"Seven hells, Arya" Gendry gasped as he almost felt himself explode before even getting himself free from his breeches.

Arya chuckled in his ear before her hands went down to assist him in his task; his fingers almost loosing all feeling as she guided his hands to her hips "Now…allow me to show you, how a Wolf rides, little Stag" she growled in his ear as she impaled herself upon him.

As Arya took Gendry again and again and as many times as she wished on top of the grain sacks; one could be forgiven for thinking a certain fat Stag King was slapping his hand against the back of a certain Wolf Lord on the other side. The blood of the Wolf and the blood of the Stag uniting; finally, in the depths of Winterfell.

* * *

The doors to the chambers opened with a creak and in walked the resident Lord of Winterfell himself. Jon held the package Gendry had given him under his right arm whilst he shut the door with his left. The fire was already stoked and burning brightly; keeping the biting cold far at bay.

When Jon turned to look around the room, he saw Daenerys sitting in a chair by the fire; her hands absentmindedly caressing the fur of Ghost's head as he Direwolf seemed to be making himself as comfortable as possible.

"I see you two are getting comfortable" Jon smiled as he approached.

"Best to get warm in here than freeze out there" Dany smiled as Jon sat down opposite her.

"What's that?" she asked; gesturing to the package he had.

"Something for our companion here. Unfortunately, Direwolves don't have hides as tough as Dragon scales; so, I had Gendry make this" Jon said as he unveiled the object of interest.

There in Jon's hands was what looked like a canine equivalent of a Brigandine Battle jacket. It seemed to have been converted from a human made Brigandine; the rivetted steel plates that made up the interior rattled as Jon hefted it up; the leather straps seemed to be the main points of connection to the wearer; but just for good measure it seemed Gendry had also made a sleeve for Ghost's torso to make equipping the Jacket all the easier.

"What in Seven hells is that?" Dany asked with a look of incredulity; Ghost tilting his head in confusion.

"I'll show you. Ghost, here boy" Jon called his Direwolf to him.

Ghost simply tilted his head further and looked straight at Dany; as if asking 'He's joking…right?' but Daenerys just shook her head yes and chuckled at the downright human personality of the silent Direwolf. Ghost seemed to listen to Jon and creep up towards him; but the moment Jon pulled the body sleeve out; the Direwolf bolted straight back to Daenerys and lay his head in her lap again.

"You…Ghost, I said come here" Jon said with a sterner tone.

"Can't you see he doesn't want to wear that ridiculous thing?" Daenerys chuckled.

"It's not ridiculous, it's protection; you could afford to wear some every now and again" Jon nodded to her.

"I do; I'm not completely incompetent" Dany gestured to the table Jon had just passed; laying on the table there was a silver breastplate; with the sigil of a three headed dragon imprinted upon it.

"That's better than nothing I suppose" Jon sighed.

"Ghost…please" Dany cupped the Direwolf's face in her hands. The Huge beast of a wolf blinked and almost immediately went over to Jon and sat down in front of him.

"H-How? Oh, you little traitor" Jon went to put the body sleeve over Ghost; the cloth padding acting like an arming coat for the Direwolf.

It was sometimes confusing for Jon to see Ghost look this small when he knew he could stand as tall as a horse. Wolves and Direwolves seemed to be very flexible animals; and most of Ghost's mass seemed to be his thick white coat. As Jon began fastening the straps of the armour onto Ghost; Dany could only chuckle as she noticed the miserable look on the beast's face.

"How long did it take for Gendry to make that?" Daenerys asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not long; he's fast and a dam near master at making armour. From what I can tell it only took him two days to make" Jon replied as he went to attach the head section that would protect Ghost's head; the Direwolf really didn't seem to like this addition as he gave a low humming growl of displeasure.

"Easy boy, it's for your own good" Jon smiled as he finished clasping the final strap "There we are, I think you look good Ghost" Jon smiled as he sat back.

There Ghost was; with the battle harness Gendry had made strapped to him. It seemed to give good protection to most of his body and most of his head; the riveted plates seemed to even stretch to his underbelly, to protect from any enemy attacks from below. Though Ghost looked less than pleased; with his ears down and as close to a scowl as a canine could muster.

The Leather covering the Brigandine was coloured pitch black and contrasted very well against Ghost's pure white fur. Gendry had even gone so far as to make a pure white Direwolf insignia on the armour; letting everyone know whose Direwolf this was…as if anyone would forget. In his own way, Ghost had become an armoured standard bearer.

"You look handsome boy" Dany smiled; the Direwolf's scowl somewhat disappearing as he went over and plopped his had back in Dany's lap.

Jon could only smile as he watched Dany continue to pet whatever fur she could get to; scratching Ghost behind his ears, under his chin, all the places that he loved. It was simply enchanting to him, that even in moments such as this; before the battle against the hordes of the dead that Jon could truly admire how beautiful she was.

A Queen in every way possible.

He couldn't believe there was a time he ever doubted a future with her. When he had found out his true parentage there were moments where he thought they would have to end what they had. But every time that those thoughts crossed his mind, he remembered his ride on Rhaegal, the Waterfall and all their intimate moments in between.

She had ruined him for anyone else; and he had ruined her the same way.

"Are you sure you still want to do this?" Daenerys asked; breaking Jon out of his thoughts.

"Do what?"

"Marry me"

"I've never been surer of anything in my life" Jon got out of his chair and knelt before Daenerys and held her hands in his. Ghost looked up; not happy with the lack of scratches going on, but seemingly understanding that his master and his mate wanted some privacy. The Direwolf got up and padded over to the door; the Brigandine not slowing him down a bit.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are we boring you?" Jon chuckled as Ghost began to claw at the door. The Northman could only chuckle as he walked over to the door and let Ghost out.

The Direwolf probably off to find someone else that could give good scratches, no one came near his master's mate in that regard, but he could probably find a distant second, maybe the dark-skinned woman and the two little ones? Maybe the Fat one and his mate? Or maybe the big red haired one…he was surprisingly good at belly rubs.

When Jon shut the door and turned back, he saw that Dany had rose from her seat and was staring deeply into the fire. Jon couldn't help but love the way the fire glowed against her skin; the way her silver curls shimmered in the light; the soft violet orbs of her eyes becoming one with fire.

Arya's words echoed in his mind.

'_This may be our last night in the world of the living; I'm making the most of it, you had better make the most of yours'_

'_Way ahead of you, little sister'_ Jon thought with a smirk as he took off his cloak and gloves.

"Must you stare at me like that?" Dany asked with a small smile as she closed her eyes.

"Only as long as you keep looking that good" Jon wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and placed a kiss at the crook of her neck.

The two simply enjoyed the feeling of warmth the other gave off; they didn't need the fire to keep warm, they were Targaryens, fire made flesh just like their dragons. But the proximity of the other certainly helped in keeping the cold at bay. Jon breathed in Daenerys' scent, she always smelt so good; in a world where everything either smelt of piss, blood or sick, her flowery, queenly scent was a sweet release from the muggy dreariness of the world.

"Do you think we can win?" Daenerys asked.

"I hope we can" Jon replied as he held her close.

Daenerys turned in Jon's arms; wrapping hers around his neck; their foreheads pressed softly together. The pure violet of Daenerys' Valyrian eyes met the steel grey of Jon's, the two of them lost deep in the gazes of the other; the threat of imminent death hanging in the air almost felt trivial whilst in each other's arms.

"Do you trust me?" Jon asked as he reached up and shifted one of Dany's silky curled bangs away; the allure of her silver gold locks never ceasing to have their seductive effect on him.

"With my life" she whispered back.

Jon's hand raised up to the Valyrian Queen's face; tilting her chin up with his finger he leaned in close; barely a breath between them. The intimacy of the moment not lost on either of them as their breaths quickened; Jon hadn't been this intimate with her since before his parentage had been revealed. He kept his promise when he told Tyrion and Davos of their betrothal; but he hadn't treated her like a woman, his woman, since he had asked her to marry him.

"Are you still sure…about us?" Dany asked; her voice shaking with equal parts anticipation and fear.

Jon's reply was what she had hoped.

The Northman leaned closer and pressed his lips against the Valyrian Queen's in a gentle display of love; he hadn't kissed her like this since the waterfall. His fingers tracing up the smooth skin of her cheek as he pulled her to his closer; Daenerys' fingers finding her lover's raven curls. When Jon pulled away, he found his leathers getting tighter as he heard her slight gasp.

"Now…and always" he whispered tenderly as his hands went down to begin pulling her dress' bindings away; her hands going straight for his belt with equal ferocity and want.

The Dragonwolf and his Dragoness found themselves in a familiar setting; with his armour and underclothes thrown to the floors and her dress discarded besides them. all Kingly and Queenly tiles, rights and responsibilities falling away like leaves from the trees during the harshest blizzard. The crackling of fire reflecting the dance of passion the two last Targaryens joined in.

Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen and Jaehaerys Targaryen, rightful king of the Seven Kingdoms; fell away to being just Dany and Jon, dancing like the Dragons they were amongst the sheets.

Dany found herself on her back; her breath leaving her as her brave and noble Jon loomed over her; their eyes burning into each other. The last Two Targaryens; finally finding one another at the end of the world; the Exiled princess and her Bastard prince. Jon caressed her velvety soft skin; his rough and calloused hands feeling as soft as fur against her. As Jon thrusted inside her, Daenerys let out a gasp of the purest pleasure; her hands clutching to his back; her nails threatening to pierce his skin. The battle hadn't even begun, and he was already going to gain a new scar or two; only these scars he wouldn't mind adding to the collection.

"What do you wish my Queen?" Jon whispered huskily into Dany's ear.

"Take me my king, take me to the stars" Dany whispered back.

"Yes, Khaleesi" he growled into her ear with a lustful passion

"…J…Jon! My Khal!" Dany gasped as her Khal ravaged her; all cares and worries fading away as Jon took her with the same passion that he had all those times before. If this was to be their final night in this world; then they didn't want any regrets.

Outside on a nearby hill, Rhaegal and Drogon let out long and drawn out roars as they felt their riders connect once more; the Dragons staying together; giving their house a future, a future that both the Dragons could sense growing within their mother; courtesy of their new father.

* * *

Tyrion and the others simply stared into the fire; the joys and jubilations they shared over Brienne's knighthood now faded back into the almost silent numbness of the impending death they would be facing in only a few hours if they were lucky. The fire did its job in keeping the external cold at bay; while the wine and Tormund's goat's milk kept the internal cold at bay.

"We should get some rest" Jamie said out loud.

"No, let's stay up a bit longer" Tyrion said; the slightest of slurs in his voice.

Tormund was impressed at the ability the small man had for holding his drink; he could see himself having some fun times with the half man if they survived this ordeal.

"We're out of wine" Davos said as he inspected all the empty flagons.

"How about a song?" Tyrion asked around the circle they had made.

"One of you must know one?" Tyrion asked as they all continued to sit in silence, Podrick taking a sip of what wine he had left.

"…Ser Davos?" Tyrion asked the older man; hoping that being a sailor meant he knew some good old sea shanties.

"You'll pray for a quick death" he instantly shot down Tyrion's request.

"Ser Brienne?" Tyrion asked the new Knight next, unfortunately she shook her head with a smile; appreciating the way her new title sounded as it was official. But Brienne had spent more time sparring with the master at arms on Tarth rather than learning to sing.

The Half man then looked to Tormund; the big old beast of a man must have known a song or two, he drank from a horn for fuck's sake, he had to know at least one good foot stomper. Tyrion thought a good old Free Folk styled foot stomper about death and booze and women would help lighten the mood.

"…Fuck off"

Apparently not.

But as Tyrion leaned back into his chair, ready for a quiet and silent night awaiting death.

"_High in the halls of the Kings who are gone…Jenny would dance with her ghosts"_

Podrick's voice echoed through the main hall; the young squire with the voice of an angel sang; Brienne and Tormund looking up in what looked like amazement at this hidden talent the Squire had been hiding from them. Tyrion's face dropped in equal parts sadness and awe as he realized the untapped potential of the loyal lad in front of him.

"_The Ones she had lost, and the ones she had found…and the ones who had loved her the most"_

* * *

Sam and Gilly lay together on the bed in their chambers; little Sam cuddled between them as he slept soundly. Sam had the dragonglass daggers than Daenerys had given to him strapped to his belt; as he looked into the soft eyes of the woman he loved; he knew he would do anything to protect the family he had left.

"_**The Ones who'd been gone for so very long…"**_

Sansa sat with Theon in the courtyard; filling their bellies with stew and just enjoying the other's presence. He and her hadn't been close growing up, but their ordeal at the hands of Ramsey had strengthened their bond; a bond of trust for the man who saved her life and trust for the girl that brought the real man back.

Sansa smiled as Theon gave her a weary smile of his own.

"…_**She couldn't remember their names"**_

Arya lay in Gendry's arms as they gazed into each other's eyes; his fingers traced the scars on her body, the one she had suffered at the hands of the waif on the bridge. As she winced and saw the apology in his eyes she smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips before tracing circles on his strong and muscled chest. The Wolf and her Stag.

"_**They Spun her around on the damp old stones…"**_

Grey Worm marched with purpose with his helmet under his arm; the Unsullied already marching formation; their officers shouting commands in High Valyrian. A well-oiled instrument of warfare; but one comprised of men. Missandei followed him closely, Uma and Jory at her heels as they clutched their furs to themselves.

"…_**spun away all her sorrows and pain"**_

Grey Worm knelt and reached forward to ruffle Jory's hair; the little lad already imprinting on the Unsullied Commander like a father. Before Grey Worm had a chance to react, both the orphans leapt into his arms in a warm embrace. Both Jory and Uma telling him to win so he could come back. He gave them a rare smile and pressed a kiss to both of their heads; telling them to take care of Missandei.

Standing up; he couldn't stop the translator from pulling him into a loving kiss. A wordless request of 'come back to me'. The Unsullied took one last look at the woman he loved and the two little ones they had taken in and gave them a nod before putting on his helmet and moving to join his men.

A silent promise of 'I will come back'

"**And she never wanted to leave"**

Sandor and Beric continued drinking in their last moments of quiet. Tossing the Wineskin back and forth; occasionally trading a laugh when one said an on the nose comment about themselves or about Thoros or any of the people they had lost along the way.

"**Never wanted to leave"**

Benjen stood there, in front of the stone depiction of his long dead sister; her hand permanently held out as he dripped hot candle wax into the palm before placing the candle there. He prayed to the Old Gods that his sister, his fallen brothers, his mother, father and all the late Kings of Winter would be watching over them.

"**Never wanted to leave" **

Meera sat fletching arrows in the heart of the Godswood; her father hobbling over and sitting down beside her. Slowly the lord of Greywater watch placed a hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a fatherly embrace. A single tear leaving her eye as the two of them remembered Jojen; how they missed him even to this day.

Meera had a Dragonglass arrow reserved for that icy bastard, she was going to avenge her brother if it killed her.

"**Never wanted to leave" **

Jorah rode past the first trench; Heartsbane sheathed on his horse's saddle; thousands of Dothraki screamers, Vale Knights and Crakehall cavalry shaking the ground beneath the hooves of their mares and stallions. Even with the vastness of their army at the ready, Jorah still remembered the sight of that immense army; hundreds upon thousands of wights; commanded by the very Lord of Death and Ice himself.

He hoped they had enough men.

"**Never wanted to leave" **

A red hooded and cloaked figure rode steadily on horseback; a woman flanked by two men in full plate, war axes at their sides and shields flung across their horses; soldiers of the man who had sailed her here. She hoped she would arrive in time; that she would not be late. Her visions told her this was the time, and she could not fail now. This was the critical moment where she was needed more than ever.

"**Never…wanted…to leave"**

Jon slipped on his boots as Daenerys fastened up her dress yet again; the fire crackling in the background as they finished putting on their underclothes. But as Jon went to grab his leather gambeson; Daenerys beat him to the point, picking it up with a smile on her face.

"I'll help you, if you help me" Dany smiled.

"Alright" Jon smiled as he turned around; His love slipping the Gambeson around him.

The closeness and intimacy of the two could be felt in the air as Daenerys helped Jon put on his Brigandine; he relished in feeling her breath against him as she attached his gorget, her arms slipping around him as she fastened his sword belt around his waist. She relished in the feeling of his strong hands cheekily exploring her body as he slipped on her white fur coat.

She could feel his strength as he fastened the breastplate around her chest. With a smile he pulled out his Dragon glass dagger and slipped it in her belt.

"Please…keep this at least" he whispered as their gloved hands clasped together.

"…Alright" she whispered back as they pressed their foreheads together.

The two stood in silence; fully armed and ready for what was coming; Daenerys running her hands over the armoured chest and toned arms of the handsome Northern King she had come to love. Jon simply committing everything about his beautiful Valyrian Queen to memory; the shimmering glow of her hair, the sweet aroma that followed her everywhere, the bright violet of her eyes.

"No matter what happens…no matter what horrors he throws at us…we will face them…together" Dany whispered to her Jon.

"No matter what happens…I'll be there for you. In victory and defeat; if we live or die…we do so together" he whispered back.

They pressed their lips together one final time. Daenerys cupping Jon's face in her hands; pulling him close, never wanting to let him go; Jon squeezing his eyes shut; he never wanted this to end; holding his beloved Daenerys in his arms.

***BWAAAAAAARM***

The dreaded horn blew once. Jon and Daenerys pulled apart with a pained gasp; both squeezing their eyes tight, hoping to all the gods it was just one blow.

***BWAAAAAAARM***

The horn blew twice.

***BWAAAAAAARM***

Thrice…they had come. The time had finally come.

Jon and Daenerys opened their eyes; violet and grey consumed with Targaryen fire as their desperate faces switched to the resolve of two warrior monarchs. Jon and Daenerys nodding to one another spurning to action.

* * *

Tyrion stood on the battlements; a look of utter fear stretched across his face; he didn't even turn to look at Jon and Daenerys when they arrived behind him. Jon and Daenerys looked out onto the horizon to see what had Tyrion's face in such a state.

"You two had better get on those dragons" the Dwarf said with wide eyes.

Jon and Daenerys nodded to each other as they quickly departed; Jon calling for their horses to take them to where Drogon and Rhaegal were roosted.

Off in the distance; the snows fell harsher than everywhere else; even moonlight couldn't pierce the veil of shadow that had enshrouded the lands. Snow crunched and ice cracked under feet, paws, Spider legs, hooves and claws. Steel rattled as the hordes of the undead slowly advanced; like cats toying with dead mice they took their time.

A rider came forward from the horde; straddling the back of a dead black stallion; its lower jaw hanging from a few strips of tendon. The Walker held in its hands a spear of ice; its blue eyes glowing in the darkness as it surveyed the lands before it. It had been thousands of years since the dead had walked this far south; the icy blue hands of the walker gripping the reigns as a scowl appeared upon its face.

A loud screech; like steel scraping against stone rang out as the Walker called forth its brethren. Marching forward on steeds of their own; dead horses, Pale Spiders that had grown to massive sizes, Dead Elk and Moose, a few even rode on the backs of Terror birds.

500,000 was the closest Benjen had gotten to the true number of the dead; but to be fair…even for him that was a lucky guess. The dead were countless; the largest army ever assembled in memory or not.

The Long Night…was here.

**WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THAT; FINAL BIT OF THE BUILD UP, THE AXE HAS BEEN RAISED AND I'M ABOUT TO DROP IT! **

**Seriously guys, I hope all the build up I've been giving will pay off with the battle. I do plan for the battle itself to be long, as in multiple chapters long so the wait for the next chapter will be a little bit longer (just hope this was enough to tide you guys over till then).**

**Also…yeah…I couldn't resist using Jenny of Oldstones…MY GOD THAT'S A GOOD SONG! One of the few genuinely awesome things about S8. **

**and yeah, Ghost has armour...the good boi deserves all the best after all! I care about my Direwolves, so Ghost is going into battle like the baddass war Wolf that he is.**

**As always guys be sure to leave reviews, PM me queries and questions, let me know what you thought and KEEP THOSE REVIEWS LENGTHY! It gives me life!**

**Next chapter….I promised in the title didn't I? The Night begins!**

**DAKKAMAN777 OUT! PEACE!**


	13. The Night Begins Part 1

**Yeah sorry this took longer than expected; Turns out A big mixture of Personal Issues, family matters, writers block and simple real life can be a fucking killer in terms of time! I couldn't finish the entire Long Night before realising this, so the gaps won't be as short as I initially promised…but hey! New chapter is out so that's something.**

**Yeah, stuff happened in real life that cut up my time like a fucking nightmare, Dad had a seizure, we all got worried, he pulled through, a lot of hospital visits and standing by the phone for hours for updates and helping my mother through….yeah Devoured a lot of my time and didn't leave much time for writing.**

**BUT ALL IS OK! New chapter is out because I felt like shit just sitting on a completed chapter while you guys are waiting for an update, hopefully this will hold you over for a bit longer.**

**Hope you guys enjoy!**

**Chapter 13: The Night Begins Part 1**

The wind and the cold hung heavy in the air as men stood to arms at their various stages of readiness. Crannogmen, Northmen and Southerners readied their arrows and bows within the walls; hauling boiling hot pitch up to the parapets, men cranking back the Ballistae and readying the trebuchets.

Northerners, Southerners and Essosi readied the manned fortifications; readying spears and cranking back crossbows for quick and close-range use. Brienne, Benjen, Beric and Grey Worm all commanded their forces into positions.

Benjen and Beric commanded the Northmen who would be manning the main fortifications; requiring the most cover and protection, Grey Worm and the Unsullied would cover the gaps in the fortifications; creating shield walls for the wights to break against, Brienne and the Crakehall infantry were the bulk of those behind the Unsullied, not requiring shield walls in their heavy armour and close combat weapons designed for dealing damage; when the wights were halted by Unsullied shields they would be cut and broken by dragonglass blades wielded by Crakehall men.

"I can't stand this…the fucking waiting" Tormund grumbled as he looked out into the veil of darkness out ahead of them. He held the hilt of his dragonglass cleaver hard; it was a good thing Gendry was such a good smith, a bit brittle and the handle would have broken in Tormund's strong grip.

"They'll be here soon" Benjen said as he unsheathed Dark Sister. Neither Jon nor Daenerys had claimed the sword from him; Daenerys going so far to as to tell him to wield it in honour of house Targaryen.

Gendry stood beside The Hound; the Bastard son of Robert Baratheon wearing a segments of Northern style plate armour that protected his vitals but still allowed for movement. The cold still bit into him as he stood there besides the Hound; even the brazier burning nearby did nothing to push back the cold.

Davos leaned against the walls of the battlements, Crakehall men and Northerners manning them with longbows at their sides; what was left of the Night's Watch manning the ballistae and keeping watch. The Onion Knight had taken his spot between Lord Commander Tollet and Ser Jamie as they looked out ahead.

Arya stood with a longbow in her hands, Bronn standing nearby; checking his own longbow to make sure the bowstring was tied right. Arya kept her bladed bo-staff nearby; leaning on the walls of the battlements, ready for use at a moment's notice.

"Are you a good shot?" Arya asked.

"Don't worry about me; worry about yourself little girl" Bronn replied as he stood up straight and placed a quiver of arrows in front; the brazier burning brightly beside him. Arya simply raised a brow, the sellsword looked like he could handle a bow; nothing to worry about so far.

"Is uh…is he alright?" Bronn asked pointing to the Armoured Direwolf sat down on his haunches next Arya.

"He'll be fine" Arya replied straight to the point. Ghost's gaze fixed on the darkness in the far-off distance.

"Fucking armoured Direwolves…you think you've seen everything" Bronn muttered to himself for the situation he had found himself in.

The lines of horsemen stood to attention; their hands gripping the reigns tightly as they observed the seemingly endless black void in front of them.

"Steady men" Lyle said as he trotted on horseback in front of his men; the faceplate of his helmet raised. The Lord of Crakehall soon trotted over to the other commanders of the vanguard, Lord Royce, Ser Jorah and the Dothraki Qhono.

"Your boys had better do their parts" Lord Royce huffed as he held the reigns to his horse tight; his rounded great helm underneath an arm.

"You worry about your own men; I'll worry about mine" Lyle replied.

"Charge only on the signal…we can't afford to rush in too soon or too late" Jorah reminded the other commanders.

"What in seven hells is that?" Lyle asked; pointing ahead. Qhono immediately seeing what he was pointing to as the two older men took a second to realize what the younger knight was gesturing to.

Three riders; slowly approaching, one hooded in the centre with two wearing heavy armour at their sides. As the three riders approached closer; their forms became clearer; the lead rider was a woman of great beauty wearing a dress of pure crimson. The two men following her wore ornate full plated red armour with silver trimmings over orange robes. At their sides they seemed to have War axes of black stone…dragonglass? And longswords sheathed on their horses; very ornate with murals of flames on the pommels and on their armour.

Their helmets covered their whole heads, only their eyes visible behind the very beautiful helmets of red steel. They both wore heavy black cloaks lined with fur, Jorah knew what these two men were on sight, he had seen them only once or twice before in his time in Volantis.

Those were soldiers of the fiery hand. Slave soldiers, undyingly loyal to the faith of Rh'llor, His Queen would not be happy about genuine slaves being present here at this time, the faith of Rh'llor was not known for its views on human freedom.

"Stop, Identity yourselves" Lyle spoke up; his hand finding his sword hilt.

"I am Melisandre of Ashai, former advisor to Stannis Baratheon, priestess of Rh'llor" Melisandre held up her hand in greeting.

"My Lady…I would advise you to retreat within the walls to hide with the others that cannot fight" Lyle advised; gesturing back to the walls. He may not have known her personally; but he didn't want to add another corpse to the army of the dead.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that until I have done what I can, Ser Lyle, Son of Roland" Melisandre replied.

"…How do you know…" Lyle's brow arched in confusion; how did she know who he was?

"I do not have the time to discuss these matters; all you need know is that I am here to help" Melisandre replied to a confused Lyle before turning her head to Jorah.

"Jorah of House Mormont…you can speak their tongue?" she asked knowingly, Jorah only nodded in reply.

"Tell them to raise their swords…your men as well, tell them all to raise their weapons" Melisandre looked to all four mounted commanders.

Lyle and Royce exchanged a confused look; Qhono seemed to recognise the robes that Melisandre wore; the Dothraki knew of the fire priests and priestesses of Volantis, strange and mystic peoples that even the hordes would steer clear of. Jorah turned to the Dothraki and called out loudly.

"VATHOLAT ARAKH AJJIN!" as loud as he could in the tongue of the Dothraki. The Horse warriors all immediately complying as they raised their Arakhs into the air.

"Well, alright" Lyle unsheathed his Dragonglass edged longsword and shouted "MEN! RAISE WEAPONS!" the Crakehall men all immediately unsheathing their blades alongside their lord.

"MEN! SWORDS!" Lord Royce commanded as he unsheathed his own sword; the Knights of the Vale following their lord in turn. Lyle gave a raised brow to Melisandre, this odd show seeming to be the lead up to some odd parlour trick the Witch had planned to wow them.

Honestly any other day he would tell her to pack it in and get inside; but considering what was on the blackened horizon…he was willing to watch a parlour trick.

Melisandre gave the smallest of smiles and rode over to Qhono, wrapping her hand around his Arakh and gazing intently into it. The two soldiers of the fiery hand rode over to Lyle and Royce and wrapped their hands around their longswords in turn, mirroring the Red Woman's actions.

"Āeksios Ōño, aōhos ōñoso īlōn jehikās! Āeksios Ōño, īlōn mīsās! Kesrio syt bantis zōbrie issa se ossȳngnoti lēdys!" she spoke with an eerily cool and calm tone, Qhono looked at her as she spoke with a raised eyebrow. He trusted Ser Jorah well enough; but he had no clue as to what this strange witch was doing.

But as the words finished leaving her mouth, Qhono's Arakh burst into flame, red hot fire emitting from the blade of his weapon and seconds later every single Arakh on the field had ignited in the same way. Dothraki gave out gasps of shock and awe only for them to be quickly replaced with smiles and whooping chants.

Lyle and Royce's swords became engulfed in flame very much like the Dothraki's, their longswords now giving off that same fiery glow that lit up the field as 104,000 blades became engulfed in the fire of Rh'llor.

Davos, Jamie and Edd's jaws threatened to detach from their heads and fall to the ground, Arya's brows raised in surprise and Bronn was practically on the edge of shitting himself. The Sellsword had seen some insane things in his life, but never something like that.

Tormund looked on in awe as yet again the Red Woman had done the impossible; give them some hope in such a hopeless situation. Beric smiled as he recognized the magic at work; something only a very powerful priest of the Lord of Light could do.

Benjen only gave a small smile of satisfaction, the smell of magical flames carrying their own unique sent to his somehow still functional nostrils. This was a smell that proceeded the deaths of Wights, in his opinion it was a very comforting smell.

Lyle almost fell off his horse he felt so surprised; every man of house Crakehall was watching their own weapon glimmer with one of the few things that could kill Wights. The fire reflecting off their steel plate armour and shimmering in their eyes.

Melisandre looked to Jorah and gave him a small smile, followed by a small nod before riding past the line; the two soldiers of the Fiery Hand following her close behind; having let go of Lyle and Royce's flaming blades, Melisandre's magic having flowed through them to accomplish a feat such as this.

"Well…I say our chances just went from Nil to Slim" Lyle chuckled under his breath as he held his flaming sword aloft.

"Valar morghūlis" Melisandre greeted Grey Worm as she rode past him.

"Valar dohaeris" he replied in turn.

Beric bowed low in respect to the red priestess; many of the others looking on in various mixtures of awe, fear, surprise and thanks. However, one set of eyes upon seeing her had only hate in them as they saw her ride towards the gate.

"Open the gate!" Davos commanded as Melisandre and her two Fiery Hand guards reached the gate.

As Melisandre dismounted, she recognised the voice that requested their entry, not a voice she was looking forward to hearing again. She could hear him now, judging her rightly for the crimes she had committed in the name of her god.

All she could do now was convince him of her place here. Even as the Onion Knight approached, full of rage and hand wandering to the hilt of his sword. The two soldiers of the Fiery Hand reached for their longswords, but Melisandre held out a hand; telling them to stand down; both obeyed without question.

"Ser Davos" Melisandre bowed in respect.

"What in seven hells are you doing here?!" Davos growled through gritted teeth; practically itching to draw his sword and impale the bitch standing in front of him.

"I am here to do what needs to be done. Like it or not Ser Davos…there are greater things at work here than you and me" Melisandre replied; no sign of the trademark smirk she used to wear on her face.

"Your Lord tell you to say that?" Davos growled angrily.

"No…it's the truth. As much as I deserve that sword through my neck, the king and queen need my services tonight…and the chances are I will be dead before the Night is through" Melisandre smiled wearily at the Onion Knight.

Davos would have liked nothing more than to make good on that request, to draw his sword and cleave her head clean off. But she was right, there were bigger things going on than him and her right now; and any help that came for Jon and Daenerys he would welcome. When this battle was done, then he would make good on his promise to execute her.

The Onion knight begrudgingly stepped aside as the Red Woman walked past with both of her guards close behind. He had a signal to watch out for after all.

* * *

Jon and Daenerys watched from the cliffside; Drogon and Rhaegal close behind them as they watched mighty spectacle of thousands of swords engulfed in bright flame before them. The battlefield illuminated by the fire given off by 100,000 Dothraki Arakhs and 4000 Westerosi longswords.

"What in seven hells?" Jon murmured in amazement as he watched the field of fire before him. He had only seen two men able to ignite their swords before, Beric Dondarrion and Thoros of Myr, but this was something else entirely.

"I would say it seems we have someone looking out for us" Daenerys slowly allowed a small smile to appear upon her face.

* * *

Meera stood with her arrow nocked; standing nearby a fiery brazier with her eyes fixed upon Bran as he sat beneath the wierwood tree; his eyes rolled back in that familiar position that Jojen would take. It was too dangerous to have men obverse the first barricade; but a powerful warg could easily keep an eye on it.

The arrow that Meera had nocked had been saturated in oil; when ignited it would create a very bright and easy to spot flame.

Bran sat with his eyes rolled back; his vision within the eyes of the crows and ravens that flew around Winterfell, hiding in the trees of the Wolfswood; as the Army of the dead approached the first barrier. As expected, the hordes of Human wights swarmed like ants, way ahead of everything else; scrambling to get over the clutter of the first barrier.

Bran's eyes flicked back, and he looked to Meera; with an icy breath he said "Now"

Meera ignited her arrow and aimed upwards into the skies; with a simple release the arrow shot up into the skies; illuminating the dark blanket of night that had gathered.

* * *

Davos saw the fiery arrow fly through the skies, that was the signal, the dead had made their move. The Onion Knight looked to the Northman to his left and nodded; the man pulled a large horn to his lips and blew into the instrument, the sound piercing through the air signalling the beginning of the battle.

"It's about time!" Lyle spurred his horse and rode in front of his men. Royce donned his great helm and spurred his horse over to his men.

"Men of Crakehall! The hordes of death are upon us! Hold the Line, stay with me and we will send them crawling back to the frozen shit hole they were spawned from!" Lyle roared before clamping down his face plate. The Strongboar reared his horse; holding up his flaming sword in a display of strength.

"NONE SO FIERCE!" he roared as the Crakehall men charged behind their lord, heavy horse hooves shaking the ground beneath them.

"FOR THE VALE!" Royce roared as he spurred his horse into action; the Knights of the Vale stampeding behind the lord of Runstone.

Qhono held up his Arakh and Jorah unsheathed Heartsbane as they rode to the forefront of their sections of the Khalasar, 50,000 riders under each of their command.

"FRAKHAS VALAD!" Qhono and Jorah yelled, raring the Bloodriders into a blood hungry frenzy

The ground shook under the hooves of 4000 heavy armoured horsemen and a further 100,000 Dothraki light cavalry stampede towards their enemy. The flaming swords and spears of the Horsemen illuminating the night air around them as they advanced.

The greatest cavalry charge in history as Vale Knights, Westerlanders and Dothraki screamers charged as one. The two flanks of heavy cavalry turning into a pincer-like fashion; like a giant scorpion claw comprised of men charging towards the darkness.

Jon and Daenerys watched from the cliff as their forces charged towards the first barricade; Daenerys silently praying to whatever gods were listening, be it the Old gods, the seven, the Lord of Light, the Great Stallion himself or even the long forgotten gods of Old Valyria; that Jorah and her Khalasar would not meet their ends. Jon could see the concern in her eyes and reached out for her hand.

"We should be down there" Daenerys said.

"Not yet…we can't risk Drogon and Rhaegal until he shows himself" Jon replied; Daenerys nodding with equal parts understanding and fear in her eyes.

Jamie watched from the walls; as Lyle and Royce led their men in the vanguard, he looked over to one of the higher up Unsullied officers and gave a nod of confirmation.

"Ondor ōregon perzys!" the officer shouted to the Unsullied operating the trebuchets and catapults. The projectiles were ignited and launched into the air.

The sky was set on fire.

Lyle rode harder and harder; spurring his horse as fast as he could, the line of Crakehall Knights with their flaming swords illuminating the dark before them. the fiery projectiles hurdling in the air above them as they rode towards their enemy with ferocity that only Crakehalls could muster.

"HOLD THE LINE!" Lyle roared as the line of heavy cavalry rumbled the ground beneath them; steel plate clattering as they advanced closer and closer.

Lyle didn't know what to expect when the darkness in front of them cleared; he was used to charging at human men, men who would fear the sound of a cavalry charge, who would yield and break upon armoured horses.

The trebuchet and catapult projectiles struck first; the sounds of inhuman screeching and wailing filling the air as the fire erupted beyond the barrier. Burnt and charred limbs scattering as the darkness still refused to yield under the fire. Lyle braced himself for the worst, but unfortunately for him he did not know what the worst entailed.

When he saw what was in front of him; it took every ounce of courage not to stop riding and turn around. The barricade had been overrun with corpses; living corpses of various states of decay clambering and squeezing through the logs and tree trunks like insects.

At least a couple hundreds of them had managed to get through already, shrieking unholy noises as the light given off by the flaming swords illuminated them.

Lyle however in this situation did the only thing he could; and swung his longsword at the head of the nearest Wight. The head of the creature was struck clean from its shoulders; the line of heavy horses shattering the ranks of the dead; flaming swords cleaved through rotting carcases; skeletons shattered upon armoured Horse chests and hooves.

The Knights of the Vale met the Crakehall men in the middle. Fiery Steel and dragonglass sheering through Wights like wheat. After the initial charge broke their ranks apart, the Dothraki sliced through their flanks like they were sheering sheep.

A rattling of steel against rotting flesh and bone, shrieks of the undead abominations, gnashing of teeth, horse hooves against cold ground, Dothraki whooping and battle cries.

The air was filled with the sounds of warfare and before long the Wights seemed to get their second wind. Dothraki screamers and Westerosi Knights were pulled from their saddles and thrown to the floor; completely at the mercy of the Wights.

A Dothraki screamer was pulled from his horse to promptly have his throat sliced to the bone; the Wights swarming over him like ants.

"Keep moving! Don't let them ground you!" Jorah shouted before decapitating a Night's Watch Wight.

Lyle's horse kicked backwards; shattering another Wight as he let out a loud roar before slicing another Wight's head clean off. Royce swung his flaming sword as fiery as any of the younger knights; his horse stampeding over Wights before they had a chance to grab a hold of him.

The charge had turned from a pincer movement into an all-out melee all in the span of a few minutes; Wights snarling and screeching as they pulled men from their horses and shredded them upon the ground, horses without rider panicking before being brought down themselves by the mindless foot soldiers.

"Fight the fuckers back! Don't give them an inch!" Lyle roared as he swung his sword into the piles of rotting flesh and bone.

All was going as planned; their loses were few compared to the hundreds of Wights destroyed in the initial charge; the wights that crawled over and through the barricades were few in number; mere dozens unable to do any damage to the mounted units that kept moving to avoid being halted or yanked from their mounts. Lyle afforded to join the Dothraki in their loud and Joyous battle cries; the Crakehall men and Knights of the Vale slicing through whatever meagre Wights managed to crawl their way into what was essentially a meat grinder made of men and horses.

That was…

"What in the name of the Seven?" Royce gasped as one of the logs making up the barricades was raised into the air.

…

…

And was hurled in their direction.

Time stood still for the commander as the log flew, as if weightless as it made contact with the Cavalry line.

A cluster of Bloodriders and Knights were crushed like bugs under the large heavy log as it crashed through their ranks. Steel plate offering little protection as tonnes of pressure turned them into broken smears in the snow.

The screams of pain and horror were deafening.

All every turned to the now open barricade; and standing there was the horrendous sight of a humanoid figure, 15 feet tall and covered in bloodied furs and bone plates. The Giant let out a terrifying low-pitched combination of a screech and roar. Wights of all shapes and sized poured through the gap and dashed towards the Cavalry line.

Lyle could only stare in horror as undead wolves began leaping up at the riders; ripping their throats out, tearing limbs from sockets. Blood sprayed through the air as men were left hanging dead in their saddles; the unlucky few to fall from their terrified horses were torn asunder within seconds as if falling into death itself.

The Giant was not the only horror to come forth from the gap; huge 9-foot-tall wingless birds…things Lyle had never even considered existing before sprinted through the gap; fast as horses with huge club like beaks and massive talons upon their feet.

A Dothraki bloodrider was pulled from his horse by one of these birds and flung about like a ragdoll until another bird snapped its jaws on his legs and ripped him in half. Organs and intestines spilled out onto the floor as the man's screams ceased.

More logs were raised from the barricade and flung towards the line; crushing dozens of men and causing many other to be flung from their terrified horse. Thousands of Wights spilling from the new gaps as the barricade was turned against its defenders. Wolves, direwolves with flesh hanging from their bones caused riders to be flung from their rearing horses; only to be ripped to shreds.

The snow turned bright red.

Royce sliced a Terror Bird's top jaw clean off; the huge body falling to the floor, dead. A Wildling Wight ran up and rammed it's rusted and grizzled knife into his horse's eye. With a whiny of terror, the Horse fell to the floor; Royce falling from his saddle but quickly finding his feet.

"COME ON!" Royce roared as he double handed his sword and began slicing away at the Wights that leapt at him; teeth bared and screeching. Several Vale Knights rode over to their commander, trying to assist him as they sliced at the Wights that ran towards him.

Suddenly, a Vale Knight's head went flying. A high-pitched ringing sound cutting through the air.

Royce looked to the assailant and his eyes widened in terror as he saw the killer. Sitting on the back of an armoured but rotting horse; head to toe in armour made of ice; eyes giving off a blue ethereal glow as they bore into Royce's soul. In its hands was a Glaive of ice; now stained red with the blood of a Vale Knight.

"GO! FALL BACK!" Royce yelled to the Vale Knights; too little too late as the Walker swung its glaive of ice yet again; magical ice slicing through steel plate like butter as another 3 men were diced in half.

The lord of Runestone charged at the Walker; sword still on fire as he carved through the Wights in front of him. One Wight managed to pull his helm from his head, another managed to slice into his shoulder with a dagger, one more wrapped its gnarled jaws around his calf; blood spurting from the wound.

Royce was a foot away from the Walker as Wights began swarming him; rusted knives bouncing and glancing off his plate armour; one knife slashing across his face before he drove his sword into its wielder.

*SSSHLUNK*

…

Royce looked down to see the ice glaive had pierced through his breastplate like butter. Ice began traveling around the wound; his flesh going frostbitten. Royce coughed up a lungful of blood; the Walker glared at him before pulling the glaive upwards; the Lord of Runestone held up high like a banner of flesh. The last thing Lord Bronze Yohn Royce saw was the blue glowing ethereal eyes of death staring at him.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Lyle screamed as he drove his sword into the open mouth of a charging Terror-Bird. The death of Lord Royce was a turning point as panic began to set in; their loses were becoming too numerous.

It was obvious now; retreat now or risk losing all the Cavalry forces to the Walkers.

"SOUND THE RETREAT!" Jorah yelled as a man to his left was pulled into the air by a giant; only to be crushed like an empty tin can.

A Crakehall man pulled a horn to his lips and blew into it with everything he had. The loud bellow heard by all as Dothraki, Westerlanders and Vale Knights turned and stampeded backwards.

"RETREAT! FALL BACK!" Jorah shouted as he narrowly avoided being stomped on by a Giant. The same Giant rearing back and kicking a Bloodrider's horse to hard it broke both the horse and rider in two like boned fish.

The Walker on horseback; with Royce still hanging limp from his glaive, watched the living flee before him and his brethren; their thralls mindlessly giving chase. The Walker reared its dead horse and gave out a loud and long shriek.

The real battle had begun.

* * *

"They need our help down there!" Daenerys began panicking as she saw the flames begin to die out; her Bloodriders uncharacteristically running from a fight at a rapid pace.

As both she and Jon watched from the cliff; at least half of the lights had gone out; smothered by the ever-encroaching darkness that was the army of the dead. As much as the Cavalry was in full retreat, the dead had units that could very well keep up with them. Terrorbirds, Wolves and Direwolves could run just as fast as Horses could, and the dead didn't tire.

"We can't risk them yet Dany" Jon replied; gritting his teeth, watching their men getting slaughtered by the dead was painful but he didn't want to risk the dragons unnecessarily.

"Jon please! We won't have any army if they can't fall back! They need us to cover them!" Dany pleaded as she placed her hands on his shoulders; horror in her eyes as her Bloodriders were torn to shreds down below.

"We had a plan Dany! We can't lose our heads, if we do everything could be lost. Losing Rhaegal or Drogon to an ice spear now could spell the deaths of us all…please; we have to stay calm" Jon reached up and cupped Dany's cheek in his palm.

Dany knew he was right; it was up to the archers to light the trench; the dragons should only get involved when necessary. Luckily her love was there to calm her fire with his ice.

* * *

Jamie watched in horror as the Cavalry charge went into full retreat; seeing the Crakehall men, the Dothraki and the Knights of the Vale; a collection of some of the greatest horseback warriors in the world retreat before an enemy was terrifying.

"You had better get your fucking act together!" Edd elbowed Jamie, snapping the Lannister out of his fear induced stupor.

"NIGHT'S WATCH! READY THE BALLISTAE!" the Last Lord Commander called out. His brothers in black loading the 5-foot-long dragonglass tipped harpoons into the mechanisms.

"ARCHERS! NOCK YOUR ARROWS!" Jamie called out loud; unsheathing Widow's Wail.

The Crannogmen, Northmen and Westerland archers took arrows from their quivers and held them near the braziers in front of them. The archers both on the walls and standing to attention in the courtyard readied themselves for the order. Jamie waiting to give the signal when the cavalry had progressed enough.

The Cavalry line had finally reached the trench and were riding over the gang planks that allowed them passage. The trench had been outlined by a marker; much like the ones Ramsey used in the defence of Winterfell in the battle of the bastards. Once the cavalry had reached that point it was time to light it.

"LIGHT!" Jamie ordered; the archers holding the tips of their arrows over the braziers.

"DRAW!" he ordered, holding Widow's wail up high in the air.

The bowstrings went taught; Arya and Bronn drawing back flaming arrows of their own. Arya remembering her short lessons from Angi of the Brotherhood; he may have been rude and crass, but he knew how to fire a bow.

"LOOSE!" Jamie brought Widow's wail down; signalling the hail of fiery arrows to begin.

With the sounds of thousands of bowstrings being loosed; the hail of fire shot out; lighting up the skies in a fail of fire. The cavalry units undoubtedly noticed the hail of arrows bearing down on the trench behind them; but were more occupied with outrunning the stampeding dead bearing down upon them.

The Human wights couldn't keep up with mounted warriors; but the Terror-birds; Wolves, Direwolves and Sabre Cats did more than keep up; the Terror-birds would pluck men from their horses; the wolves and Direwolves would snap at the horses; causing them to rear or fall, taking their riders with them, whilst the Sabre Cats would tackle the riders from their horses to promptly tear them apart.

The Walkers themselves rode forward at a leisurely pace many on the backs of armoured dead horses; sabre cats, Snow bears, Terror birds and other such monstrosities. They all seemed to look up in unison at the hail of fiery arrows descending upon their troops; one could be forgiven to thinking they saw one Walker smirk with a glint in its glowing blue eyes.

The hail of arrows struck; nailing Wolves, Direwolves, Sabre cats and Terror birds dead, injuring them, setting them alight or catching them off balance. However, when one flaming arrow struck the trench; the entire pit went up; oil drenched branches, kindling and oil pots bursting into flame; creating a wall of fire that quickly spread across the entirety of the field.

The Cavalry units were safe from the bulk of the Army of the dead. A few undead wolves having managed to slip past the trenches before they were lit; were nailed by the still falling arrows.

Jorah looked back and with a relived gasp he saw the flaming wall created by the trench put a stop to the charging wights. The hordes of walking corpses of different shapes and sizes put to a halt; their bright blue eyes glaring from beyond the fire as they retreated.

"MAKE WAY!" Benjen called out; the infantry lines parting to allow the Cavalry to ride past. Eyes widened at the state of most of the riders; with broken and battered armour; blood seeping from open wounds; Horses with claw marks marring their coats.

"OPEN THE GATES!" Davos commanded as the Cavalry units needed to retreat and regroup. The horses themselves weren't going to be a help; the cavalry charge was a one-use tactic in this situation.

Lyle practically leapt off his Horse when it made it within the gates. Someone took the horse's reigns as he took his helmet off; the adrenaline still coursing through his veins made it hard to think straight; the smell of blood in the air, the sound of fires burning, the screams of men being torn apart still echoing in his mind.

The Lord of Crakehall would have fell to his knees in utter shock of what had just happened, but luckily, he managed to find a wall to lean against. In all his years of warfare and battle he had never seen anything like this enemy; they didn't fight like men…it wasn't fighting it was like they were deer being savaged by wolves or wild dogs. There was no grace; no talent, no skill, no honour, it was just life and death, survival at its simplest.

"My Lord" a Crakehall knight put a hand on Lyle's shoulder; snapping the Strongboar out of his stupor.

"Are you alright?" the knight asked through his blood stained Sallet.

"Give me a moment dam you!" Lyle pushed the Knight's hand off his shoulder.

Davos came running down the stairs of the ramparts and met with the three surviving commanders; Lyle needing time to regain himself; Jorah had gained a large cut above his right eye, and Qhono was absolutely drenched in gore; whether any of the blood was his or not was up for discussion.

The way all the Dothraki seemed shaken to no end was a first for Jorah to see. Normally the Dothraki rode into battle with no fear of death; riding into the jaws of death itself was what I meant to be a Bloodrider to a Khal or in their case Khaleesi. But what they had just faced was enough to make any man question their situation.

"Ser Jorah…what in Seven hells happened?" Davos asked.

"We lost Lord Royce…we have no clue how many men we lost; thousands…tens of thousands I don't know" Jorah wiped the blood from his head.

"Their eyes…did you see that fucking thing's eyes?!" one of the Crakehall men was beginning to panic; clutching a still bleeding shoulder as another Crakehall knight and a Vale Knight held him down onto some nearby crates.

"Stay calm" another Crakehall said as he tried to put a tourniquet around the wound.

"Will someone shut him up?" Lyle grumbled with his eyes squeezed closed as he tried to shake the dread still creeping up his spine.

"We're dead! We can't fight that! We can't fight that!" the man began to cry out in terror as the image of men being torn apart by dead men like how a Butcher carves their meat still repeated in his mind.

However, the panicking man was pulled out of his ravings when a Steel-clad gauntlet wrapped around the scruff of his neck and yanked him off his arse. Lyle glared at the man with the burning eyes of a Strongboar as he snarled "Stop whimpering you coward! You are a man of Crakehall, a son of the westerlands, a Boar…not a scared little pig! If you don't shape up and stop crying like a woman, I swear to the Warrior I'll gut you myself and save the Walkers the trouble!"

The wounded Crakehall was silenced by his Lord and complied; sitting down and allowing his wound to be dressed. With a deep breath Lyle seemed to finally shake off the battle fatigue and walked over to one of his commanders.

"Get our wounded inside; those that can still fight will ready for combat" the commander nodded in reply before issuing the orders to the remaining Crakehall men.

Qhono and the Dothraki were still pouring in; some of them practically falling from their horses as their grasped their wounds. The Dothraki made the bulk of the mounted forces; it only made sense they would bear the brunt of the casualties. Jorah approached the lead Bloodrider as he sat down and simply tried to gain back his bearings; wiping blood from his face.

The gore covering Qhono was front another Bloodrider; torn in half right above his head by one of those…giants. The Dothraki had never faced a force such as this before; so, they were understandably startled. Jorah simply put a hand on Qhono's shoulder and gave him a reassuring nod; the Dothraki returned it after a pause.

"MEN! READY YOURSELVES!" Benjen called out as the last of the mounted units made it within the walls.

"Get ready for a fight boys!" Tormund growled as he readied his dragonglass cleaver.

Gendry steadied his war maul; Sandor held his Battle axe tightly, Beric held his sword tightly; what was left of the Brotherhood, a couple dozen men standing at the ready besides Wildlings, Northmen, Westerlanders and Unsullied.

The battle had only just begun.

* * *

In the main hall; women, children and elderly folk; those that could not fight sat by the roaring fire as the sound of horses in full retreat sounded outside. Missandei kept Jory and Uma as close to her as possible; the little Northern Orphans wrapped in her cloak, sharing as much warmth as possible. Gilly kept Little Sam close to her doing her best to help him rest; the sound of a crying child would not exactly help the mood.

Sam fiddled with his dragonglass dagger as he walked over and sat next to Theon who had his hand firmly around a Dragonglass tipped spear; a Dragonglass axe sheathed in the hoop of his belt. The IronBorn gathered around him all had sullen expressions on their face. Sam couldn't tell if they were angry, they were stuck with guard duty, glad they weren't apart of the action or even ashamed that they were glad in the first place.

"How are you holding up?" Sam asked nervously.

"…Alright…you?" Theon replied not even glancing in Sam's direction.

"…I think I should be out there, not in here" Sam replied.

"You aren't a fighter; even I can see that" Theon replied.

"I…I killed a Thenn"

"How?" Theon asked now looking at Sam.

"Uh…Crossbow bolt in the neck" he replied.

"Shooting a crossbow and fighting are not the same thing. Trust me; you are better in here away from the fighting" Theon replied.

"I want to protect people who meant a lot to me…I…I feel useless sitting in here while Jon and the other fight for their lives" Sam replied.

"…Who are you protecting?" Theon asked with a raised brow.

"My family…the family I chose more like" Sam said sparing a glance back at Gilly and Little Sam.

"…There was a time I thought family was simply who shared your blood. it was all simple back then; when all I had to do was look at a Kraken banner and think 'that's my heritage…that's who I am' but…turns out life isn't quite as simple as that" Theon replied.

"My father never thought of me as someone to be loved or cared for. He gave me up like a dog, my real father died on the executioners block…while the man I thought was my father abandoned me to Ramsey Bolton" Theon said with remorse in his voice.

Ned was always more of a father to Theon than Balon, Ned taught him honour and humility, how to be a real man. Ned gave Theon everything a father would give a son; he gave him knowledge, a home, a roof over his head, food in his belly and treated him as well as any of his sons by blood. Robb was a true brother to Theon; he would have died if it meant protecting him, same went for Ned if it came down to it. Even when Theon first came back to Winterfell to take it; Bran looked at him with that same familial love in his eyes, the same trust a brother would have.

And he threw it away to gain the acceptance of a man whose own brother murdered him for a crown.

Sam had heard of what Theon's complicated family history was like; and truth me told he could relate.

"…Family is never a simple concept. I found mine beyond the wall where everything was supposed to be evil and savage, while my blood father treated me like scum. The closest thing to a father I ever had was the Lord Commander…and Jon was the closest thing I ever had to a brother that cared for me" Sam confessed.

Jeor was the father Sam should have had, he was strict but fair; honourable and courageous. A real man that taught Sam how to be one in kind. Unlike Randyll who was obsessed with his own strength and pride, so much so that Randyll would have sooner killed his own blood than have his reputation tarnished; that he constantly abused his son, called the woman he loved an 'It' like any one of those fuckers that tried to rape Gilly at Castle Black. Lord Commander Mormont would have died to save any one of his men; men who didn't share an ounce of his blood. Jeor Mormont was a real man; while Randyll was as fake as a man could get.

Jon, Grenn, Pyp and Edd…they were the brother Sam had never had; he may have still loved Dickon, but his blood brother never lifted a muscle to defend Sam from their father. Dickon never once spoke out against Randyll, never once stood up in defence of the brother that wasn't strong enough to defend himself. But his Brothers in black? Jon threatened to have Ghost rip Raast's throat out if he ever touched Sam again; he stood beside Sam always, he was always there for him. Same went for Grenn, Pyp and Edd; they were his brothers in all but blood.

And how had he repaid Jon? By trying to turn him against the woman he loved; all because she as a Queen executed his father and brother for their treasons against the Reach. She didn't have any connection to them; how was Daenerys to have known what they meant to Sam? She did what she thought was right, the same as Jon every time he swung a sword.

"We may not have been there for our real family in the past…but we can be there for them now" Theon nodded before sparing a glance to Sansa; deep in conversation with Tyrion about something.

The Ironborn just hoped the others on the outside were doing ok.

**Ok, so there we have it, the first chapter of many, the beginning of the Long Night and …wait…what's this? A Cavalry charge that wasn't the dumbest fucking thing you've ever seen? Noooo, impossible! Yeah, I hope my cavalry charge was pleasing at the very least, there is more to come pretty soon ladies and gents, I just hope you enjoy it when I release it.**

**Hopefully the wait for the next chapter isn't as long because MY GOD, trying to write it all out at once has killed me, I feel like an arsehole making you guys wait so long so I've made my decision I AM GOING TO RELEASE THESE CHAPTERS AS I FINISH THEM!**

**Translations:**

**Frakhas Valad – Touch the Horizon – A common Dothraki war cry**

**Vatholat Arakh Ajjin – Up Arakh now/raise your arakhs **

**ondor ōregon perzys – Reign fire**

**SEE YOU GUYS NEXT CHAPTER, DAKKAMAN777 out!**


	14. The Night Begins Part 2

**Hi everybody! I'm back with another chapter and yet again I must thank you all for your infinite patience with me and your support. A lot of things are going on in my personal life now, a lot of change and family drama that doesn't make things easy on a guy like me who….sigh…doesn't do well in tense situations.**

**Writing this story is one of the few things bringing me comfort so like always I hope you enjoy it. Now! Enough of me blabbering and onto the story!**

**Chapter 14: The Night Begins Part 2**

"How long do you think it will hold them back?" Jamie asked Edd; the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch having more experience with Wights than Jamie did.

"It won't keep them back for long. Why else do you think the first men built the wall in the first place?" Edd replied rhetorically.

"Well, we should work on sheering down their numbers while we can, READY ANOTHER VOLLEY!" Jamie ordered; holding Widow's wail up.

The archers went to work; nocking new arrows and lighting them up at the braziers; awaiting Jamie's order to fire them upon the army of the dead.

Meanwhile at the wall of flame; human Wights stood rigid and silent as the flames burned in front of them; undead wolves and Direwolve twice their size prowled by the flames; snarling as they waited for the chance to leap towards their prey. Shadow cats and Sabre cats prowled silently; glaring across the flames when they could.

Suddenly, the hordes of human wights parted and a line of about 10 Walkers all on horseback rode forwards. One hopped off its mount and slowly approached the fire. This walker wore the light black armour and had long strands of white hair flowing from its head; its face as smooth as a Walker's face could be.

The creature narrowed its eyes at the long fiery trench before looking up at the clear night's sky. The light given off by the stars annoyed him and his brethren as he held his ice spear in both hands and raised it up; one by one every one of the 10 walkers raised their own ice weapons. A slow humming resonated through the Walkers and their weapons, the humming went higher and higher until it transformed into a shrill hiss, the very same noise the walkers made whenever they shattered the steel of their enemies.

"LOOSE!" Jamie ordered; the Archer letting loose their arrows; another hail of fire lighting up the sky was gravity brought them down upon their enemy.

The wind began to pick up as the lines of trees behind them began to shake; the snows were blown into the wind and the stars began to be shrouded in the dark clouds that erupted forth. One of the Walkers let out a long and visceral screech as the winds harshly blew forwards; the flames beginning to flicker as the cold wind fought against the heat.

The hail of flaming arrows was extinguished and blown to the winds; scattered and rendered completely useless by the gale force winds that the Walkers had conjured.

On the walls Edd watched almost slack jawed as the flames that kept the wights from advancing were beginning to flicker and die.

"Those fuckers always have something up their sleeves" the Lord Commander grit his teeth.

The wall disappeared, the flames dying out in the intense blizzard as a pair of glowing blue eyes in the distance bore deeply into Edd's soul. The tell-tale screech of the Walkers pierced through him like a dagger of pure ice; the slaughter on the fist of the first men coming to mind; how mercilessly the Walkers had descended upon them.

The blood

The screams

The horror

"Not this fucking time!" Edd almost growled as he drew his dragonglass edged sword and called out "GET READY! THEY'RE COMING!"

"Archers! Man the walls!" Jamie called out with a swing of Widow's wail. The archers ran to action; some of them carrying Braziers with them as they all took their places along the walls of Winterfell. The effectiveness of long-range archery had been taken away by the strong winds; but they would be useful when the Army of the dead had marched closer to the walls.

"Men Hold your ground! Whatever you see coming from the shadows you will stand and fight it!" Brienne unsheathed Oathkeeper. Beric ignited his longsword; Grey Worm donned his helmet and Benjen held Dark Sister tight in his grip.

The rumbling of thousands of feet upon ground rang through the air; even the cavalry charge had not created such a rumble. One could be forgiven for thinking an earthquake had been summoned upon them, but the army of the Dead was near countless in their numbers.

"Dovaogēdy! ōregon se qogron, iōragon hae mēre!" Grey Worm ordered; the Unsullied standing to attention and locking their shields together in an airtight phalanx between the gaps of the fortifications.

The rumbling of thousands upon thousands of Wights got louder and louder with each passing second; the howling blizzard following them close behind. The forces of the living not knowing what would reach them first, the icy wind summoned by the walkers or the marching corpses themselves?

It unnerved every man present when the first thing to hit was a silence of sorts; like the tense moment before the headman's axe dropped; where all you could hear was your own heartbeat and breaths. Tormund narrowed his eyes as the cold wind hit; every eye was narrowed as not to freeze in their sockets; breaths became ragged and desperate against the cold and icy wind.

Only Benjen remained wide eyed, the frosty wind having no effect on his eyes or flesh. The moment he saw the faint blue shimmer of eyes he held up Dark Sister and yelled "FOR WINTERFELL!"

Before anyone knew it a swarm of human wights stampeded through the darkness and were down their throats.

The first line of wights fell into the trench before them; losing their footing and tumbling into a messy entanglement of limbs; the second line of wights fell over the first line, the third line swarmed over the first and second and many made contact with the fortifications; impaling themselves upon the long wooden spikes, screeching before their heads were lopped off by blades of Dragonglass and Valyrian Steel.

"Ōregon se qogron!" Grey Worm called out as he and the Unsullied held their spears out at the ready.

The dead crashed upon the shield walls like water upon rock; snarling and screeching as they piled atop one another; desperate to sink their rusted blades into something fleshy. The Unsullied held their ground; their interlocking shields and tight formations helping keep back the hordes of undead. Dragonglass spearheads found their marks as they pierced deep into exposed rotting flesh; Wights shattered apart and fell limp against the ground when the Volcanic weapons pierced the Wights.

"RAAGH!" The Hound roared as he swung his Battleaxe, beheading a Wight that had impaled itself on the battlement he was posted at.

"Don't let the fuckers over the spikes!" Tormund roared as he cut another Wight's head off.

The Wights continued to swarm; disregarding their own safety as they impaled themselves upon the wooden spikes to make it easier for the Wights behind them to swarm over the barricades. One such Wight that made it over was quickly beheaded by a swing of Gendry's war maul.

The Unsullied held their ground as best they can; but even with their air-tight phalanx they were not immune to the sheer weight of the hundreds of bodies piling up upon them; especially when the Wights began to pour over the top.

One Unsullied found his throat being sliced to the bone before the Wight attacking him was impaled by the Unsullied behind him. Every time an Unsullied fell; another quickly took his place; but the Wights slowly but surely kept advancing; every time they killed an Unsullied, they would open an opportunity for three more Wights to pour into the gap.

"ARCHERS! FIRE!" Jamie swung Widow's Wail; the archers manning the walls letting their arrows loose into the wight's below; giving the Unsullied and ground forces some semblance of relief.

"Where are those fucking Dragons!?" The Hound grunted before bringing his axe down on a wight, slicing it in half vertically.

"Have some fucking faith! They'll…oh fuck me" Tormund's eyes went wide when he saw shapes in the sky that were not Dragons. He had seen those shapes before and knew exactly what they were; the other Free Folk could see the look of fear on Tormund's face when he saw them, a look they all began to share.

Birds; black feathered and talons like meathooks; 26 feet from wingtip to wingtip; huge sharp beaks like those of an eagle. These were creatures native to beyond the wall; in the mountains surrounding the Thenns. Many of the Free Folk, the Thenns especially recognised and feared these creatures as they were known to be able to pluck creatures as large as horses from the ground with their talons.

"THUNDERBIRDS!" Tormund shouted as he ducked; narrowly avoiding being plucked from the ground.

The first Thunderbird wrapped its massive talons around a Northerner; the talons sinking deep into his flesh with a sickening tear and a splash of blood. The man was carried into the skies; and when high enough the Thunderbird dropped him; his body breaking upon impact on the ground.

More and more Thunderbirds began to divebomb the ranks filling the fortifications. The archers manning the walls did their best to try and shoot the flying monstrosities out of the sky; but while large they were also fast and were not picky about where to drop their prey. In the span of a few seconds; the Thunderbirds began hurling screaming men at the archers upon the walls like projectiles.

"SHOOT THE FUCKERS DOWN! SHOOT THEM DOWN!" Edd screamed before leaping out of the way; a Wildling corpse breaking in half upon the rafter in front of him.

Arya nocked a flaming arrow and aimed carefully; waiting for the right moment before letting loose a shaft. The fiery tipped projectile finding its mark in the bony ribcage of the attacking Thunderbird; the creature screeching as the fire spread across its body; flying away as it slowly died from the fire ravaging its form.

The swarms of Wights didn't falter as they became bolder; some Wights trying to swarm underneath the Unsullied shield wall; soldiers soon being pulled into the swarm, screaming as they were torn limb from limb.

One Thunderbird flew down low to try and snatch another soldier in the army of the living; but it didn't expect an Unsullied to throw his spear at it; causing it to lose its balance in the air and fall to the ground. There it was quickly dispatched by Dragonglass weapons; slashing and piercing it from every direction.

"WE CAN'T HOLD MUCH LONGER!" Gendry cried out; blood dripping from a cut above his right eye.

"WHERE ARE THOSE FUCKING DRAGONS!?" The Hound swore as he stomped upon a writhing Skeleton; crushing its skull beneath his foot.

"HOLD YOUR FUCKING GROUND CLEGANE!" Benjen snarled like a Wolf before slicing a Wight in half; Dark Sister slicing through fur, flesh and bone like butter. Another Wight dressed all in black leapt at Benjen only for his to drive a Dragonglass dagger into its throat.

The sounds of screeching filled the air as a Terrorbird leapt over the fortification; within the span of a few seconds it had its huge jaws wrapped around a Northman's head; tearing it from his shoulders with a spray of crimson. A Crakehall man in heavy armour ran towards it with a Warhammer raised high; with a swing he seemed to break a few ribs; but before he had a chance to continue his onslaught; the Terrorbird swung its huge head like a club; it's hooked beak working like a warpick as it found a weak spot in the joint of his shoulder.

Gendry used this opportunity to swing his war maul; with a grissly crunch it made impact with the monster's head; breaking the beak to pieces. As it screeched in pain; The Hound swung his battleaxe and lopped its head clean off.

Just then; the sound of earth trembling hit their ears; Benjen and Tormund especially knew that sound; the pounding of heavy footprints and the snarling of the owner. Benjen quickly turned to the men behind him and shouted with all haste.

"WE HAVE TO FALL BACK! LIGHT THE FUCKING TRENCH!" the First Ranger yelled.

Benjen could see the outlines of the massive, dark shapes approaching; he had seen first-hand what Giants could do to men; how they could rip a man to pieces as effortlessly as a man breaks bread. All hope of victory would be lost if the lines were broken.

Suddenly…the air was set ablaze.

*FWWWOOOOOOOOOOSH!*

Benjen looked upwards as a colossal shape of black and red swept past them; wings outstretched and flames erupting from its tooth filled maw. The shock of silver hair passing by in an instant as the entire front of line of wights was set alight with the burning heat of Dragon fire. All eyes turned to the burning inferno that set the trench alight; creating such a wall of intense heat that many of the men on the front light had to avert their eyes from fear of being blinded.

Rhaegal swooped in close behind; letting loose a jet of flame across the ranks of the wights; shrieks and hisses of momentary pain instantly silenced by the heat of the flames.

"AAHAHAHA! BURN THOSE FUCKS!" Tormund cheered with a look of pure glee on his face. The Free Folk bursting out into cheers as the man that saved them at Hardhome brought fire down upon the legions of the undead.

"FALL BACK! WITHIN THE GATES!" Benjen ordered before lopping the head off one of the remaining Wights.

The forces that manned the fortifications began to retreat; lighting the Fortifications on fire as they did. The Hound and Tormund slicing down a few surviving wights down as they attempted to follow them within the walls. The Unsullied stood fast; the bulk of the undead forces cut off from those still attacking the shield wall.

From here the Unsullied pressed their advantage and slowly pulled back, step by step; drawing the Wights back towards the walls and into the range of the archers whilst their spears did the work of shoring down their numbers. Within a few moments what little of the dead were left were trapped between the ranks of the Unsullied and the wall of fire that Drogon had created.

"AAAHU! AAAHU! AAAHU!" the Unsullied gave out their war chants in unison; marching backwards as their spears pierced through rotting flesh and their shield wall held the Wights back to cull them like sheep

* * *

Normally the wind blowing through her hair would calm her; as would the powerful beats of her children's massive wings. But the fire they reigned down upon the legions of the undead reminded Daenerys that this was not a time of calm. Far from it; this was war, a war of pure survival, kill or be killed.

Seeing the massive shapes begin to advance on the fortifications was what spurred the two Targaryens into action. It was now or never; killing the Night King wouldn't matter if their army was slaughtered before he showed himself; and after half of their cavalry forces had been extinguished it was safe to say that they couldn't afford to sit on their hands anymore.

'_Dracarys!' _Daenerys ordered; Drogon letting loose another jet of flames upon the wights down below. Bones and rotting flesh disintegrating immediately upon impact, Jon and Rhaegal swooped down beside her; the Green dragon letting loose another jet of his own.

The feeling of power coursed through Jon's veins, riding Rhaegal was one thing; but riding him into battle and reigning fire upon the army of the dead was a surge like nothing he had felt before. A very primal part of his brain was relishing in the feeling of telling Rhaegal to burn the objects of his hatred.

Was this what it meant to be a Targayren?

But those thoughts didn't have time to develop as Jon spotted them there; waiting on the very edges of the army; sat on their dead steeds with eyes glowing an ethereal blue. About 15 of them sitting in a line; all watching their forces screech and snarl at the wall of Dragon fire. He could do it; he could wipe out a huge portion of their army right now if he scorched them in flame. This wouldn't be another massacre like Hardhome; he could kill the Walkers and their army could be cut in half!

These thoughts rushed through Jon's head like pure lightning, Rhaegal's bestial nature adding fuel to the Targaryen fire that told Jon to destroy these abominations. The Green Dragon ached for revenge, to burn the foul creatures that killed his brother, that killed Viserion.

"Let's go Boy!" Jon growled as he urged Rhaegal towards the Walkers.

Tucking his wings in and going into a diving motion, Rhaegal was making himself a harder target for any of the walkers; he was going to swoop in and drown them in fire; make them scream, make them burn, bring them fire and blood for what they did to his brother.

Jon had heard Dany say it before; the words he had never said; but right now, the way they echoed in his head felt so natural. Like his Valyrian blood calling to him, a right of passage for a true son of Old Valyria.

"DRACARYS!"

But when Rhaegal opened his maw to reign fire upon the walkers…

Panic; panic from his rider, Rhaegal looked up to see something that made the Dragon's blood freeze. Jon felt the icy chill of death itself upon him as he saw the wall of freezing cold; a Blizzard the likes of which he had never seen even beyond the wall. The Walkers were all glaring at him with their glowing blue eyes; their ice spears, ice halberds and ice swords raised in the air as they let out an ear-piercing shriek in unison.

"RHAEGAL! BACK!" Jon urged the Dragon to pull up; the fire drying from his mouth and his wings outstretched as the blizzard hit.

Freezing cold engulfed both Jon and Rhaegal; the Dragon's cry of shock and surprise ringing out before it was silenced by the howling wind. The Powerful sky beast had the wind knocked out of him as the wind threatened to scatter him like an insect, the Green dragon did everything he could to right himself, but the wind was harsh and powerful.

Daenerys looked on in horror as Jon and Rhaegal disappeared into the approaching wall of cold and ice. Before she had time to react, she found Drogon letting out a yelp of his own; the ice cascading unto both her and her dragon in a mere instant.

The Dragon Queen had never felt cold like this; the wind bit down to her bone; her fur coat doing next to nothing to relieve her of the chilling bite of the wind. She couldn't help but squeeze her eyes shut and hug herself close to Drogon; even squinting exposed her eyes to the freezing wind.

Both Dragon riders were now lost in the snow; unable to see, hear or even sense what was around them; their bonds to their dragons being the only thing keeping the beasts calm.

* * *

The sounds of the harsh winds could be felt even in the Godswood as Meera Reed stood there with her bow at the Ready; the small force of Unsullied and Crannogmen provided by the Queen and her father standing at the ready. Howland also stood there; small of stature and past his prime, but he would stand there for as long as he was needed.

And his daughter clearly needed him.

"He was brave at the end" Bran spoke out, earning Howland's attention.

"Jojen…he was brave even at the very end" he repeated himself.

Meera squeezed her eyes shut with her back to Bran, she didn't need the image of that emotionless husk talking about dear Jojen in her head. Simply knowing Jojen died to turn Bran, the once curious and wild Brandon Stark into this…thing was already too much to bear.

"My son was always brave. He unfortunately wasn't as physically strong or capable as Meera…but he was strong in the way it mattered" Howland's words; unlike Bran's were comforting, full of emotion. The tears his voice would bring were not ones of sorrow but of a father remembering his sweet and brave boy.

Jojen was a fierce Lion Lizard all the way to the end; knowing he would die but doing so for the greater good.

At least that is what Meera wanted to believe.

Howland walked over to Bran and knelt beside him.

"Can you remember? What it was like to be you?" Howland asked as he laid a hand on Bran's.

"I remember what it was like to be Brandon Stark, I remember the emotions, I remember the joys and the grief and the memories…" Bran begun but when he trailed off Howland raised a brow.

"But?" he urged.

"They aren't gone…like disconnected…that they are just like the other memories of events I've seen…as if I'm reading a book about my life and I cannot picture what happens on the page" Bran replied.

"And have there been…other Three eyed Ravens?" Howland asked.

"As long as there have been the Children of the Forest…as far as I've seen" Bran replied.

"How far back have you gone?" Howland asked.

"As far as the first Long Night…any further back and…he stops me" Bran replied; for a split-second Howland swore he saw a shock of emotion on young Brandon's face, an emotion he was all too familiar with.

Fear.

There was no doubt who Brandon was referring to.

"He…stops you?" Howland asked.

"Yes…as if he doesn't want me to know something…every time he stops me…it feels like he is getting closer" Bran replies.

"Jojen spoke about him…frequently to me. He knew what was to come…what must be done…and he sacrificed himself to get you here, do you know why? Have you seen?" Howland asked; trying desperately to keep his tears back at the thought of his young Jojen in the back of his mind.

"Not yet…but I feel…the answers will come soon" Bran replied.

"How do you know that?" Howland asked.

"…I know" Bran replied looking up into the Night Sky. The feeling rushing through him the very same as when Jojen saw his hand burn, the feeling a seer knew something deep in his gut. Bran couldn't describe it…but he knew…Tonight everything would be revealed.

Like looking through a murky glass window in front of a flowing river, the answers were there but could not be seen, every few moments it would feel as if he could see something...but the future was fluid, especially if he did nothing about it.

But he had yet to play his part.

"I'm going to go now" Bran said to Howland.

"Go where?" Howland asked.

"…To get help" Bran's eyes shifted back into his head.

* * *

The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the firewall crackling; the sounds of the blizzard above was harsh but it was eerily silent down on the ground. The simple fire of the first fire wall was not like the wall of Dragon fire that Drogon had created between the living and the dead. It would take more than a strong breeze to extinguish this flame.

The forces of the living had completely retreated behind the walls; many of the ranking officers and elite fighters not manning the parapets to watch the enemy's movements.

Tormund looked over the walls; gripping the edges with whitened knuckles beneath his gloves.

"I fuckin hate it when they stand still like that" the Redhead said as he stared at the lines of dead looking back at him.

"You and me both" Bronn commented looking at the legions of the undead gathered before them.

As Arya walked the walls; Ghost practically hung at her hip, his new armour not doing anything to slow him down. The countless rotting faces and skulls glaring back at her made her realize what kind of situation this was. When preparing for tonight she thought the dead would not surprise her; that Jon and the others were simply startled by the sort of thing she saw in Braavos in the House of black and white.

But seeing the dead.

It made her realize that the end times were upon them.

Or at least what Old Nan always described as the End Times.

Yes, her time with the Faceless men had toughened her up and made her hard to scare easily. But Old Nan always told stories about the Long Night, about the Walkers and the swathes of death they would bring with them upon their return. So, imagine Arya's shock to see the undeniable proof that the stories were true.

The clanking of plate armour was heard as Lyle Crakehall and a contingent of his men joined the others on the battlements. He had traded his dragonglass sword and mace for the sheathed Hand and a Half sword he was holding right now.

His ancestral family blade, Tusk. It was a simple looking sword by comparison to the likes of Heartsbane, Oathbreaker and Widow's Wail, but it was certainly a pretty sight all the same. A handle inlaid with Boar bone, the words 'None So Fierce' scribed upon the cross guard and a blade that was comprised of Valyrian Steel.

It would do the job just fine.

His family had this sword for hundreds of years, unlike many houses they kept a good hold of it and made sure it wasn't lost in the heat of battle. Because of this, Lyle made sure never to carry it on horseback, lest he get thrown from his horse and have the sword go missing in the chaos.

But it seemed worries like that didn't matter anymore; he was the last Crakehall and the sword would remain in his hands until the war had been won, or until he expired.

Whichever came first.

"You back on your feet?" Arya asked with a raised brow.

"Don't worry about me little lady; worry about…them" Lyle pointed at the Hundreds upon thousands of dead just standing there…waiting.

"Shouldn't we fire another volley?" Gendry asked.

"No, the fires would go out before they struck in this wind, and we have to conserve our resources as we can" Jamie replied.

"It's not about winning…it's about buying time until someone can kill their leader" Jorah added.

"Speaking of which…where are they? The Dragons?" Beric asked as he looked up.

"Disappeared into that fucking Blizzard; flying blind with the cold wind in their ears so a horn won't help them" Sandor replied.

"Jon will find his way out…fucker always does" Edd replied.

"They had better find their way fast because I don't feel we can hold these fuckers back by ourselves" Tormund grunted.

The gathered forces couldn't help but feel a collective shudder as the countless dead gathered before them continued to stare and snarl and glare at the forces of the living. The cold and unfeeling slaves of the Walkers making their presences known; the sheer numbers stretching as far back as the eyes could see.

"_**SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE"**_

An ear-piercing screech filled the air; one of the Walkers on horseback giving out a loud command as the human wights began throwing themselves on the fire. As the wights burned they were replaced with more wights until the fires began to get smothered. The hundreds of undead sacrifices creating corpse bridges for the rest of the army to pass across.

"You've got to be fucking joking" Bronn stared in awe.

"MEN! TO ARMS! MAN THE WALLS!" Lyle shouted as he unsheathed Tusk.

"Come on Jon…we need you…both of you" Arya whispered to herself; Ghost giving a small whimper of agreement.

* * *

**WELL WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK?**

**Yeah, this chapter yet again wasn't a super long one, but I hope it pleases as another instalment of the battle of Winterfell. As always, I hope you enjoyed my battle scene writing, with every line of defence or offence the living has, the Walkers have a countermeasure for it. The Dragonfire wall being the only thing standing between the walls and the dead now. **

**As always let me know what you guys thought, what you liked, what you want to see. EVERYTHING! Please make the reviews long.**

**High Valyrian Translation:**

**Dovaogēdy! ōregon se qogron, iōragon hae mēre! – Unsullied! Hold the Line, stand as One!**

**Ōregon se qogron – Hold the Line**

**ANOTHER THING! At the behest of my good friend Longclaw 1_6 - for any Star Wars fans amongst you guys, I recently updated a chapter of my very own Star Wars prequel re-write 'Star Wars: Shroud of the Dark Side' so if any of you guys want to check out my Star Wars rewrite to read alongside this, please be my guest.**

**Hope you guys all enjoyed it, and as always REVIEW! DAKKAMAN777 OUT!**


	15. The Night Begins Part 3

**(EDIT: OK….YET AGAIN, YOU GUYS SHOULD KNOW BY NOW THAT MY UPDATE SCHEDULE IS FUCKED…AT LEAST I'M UP FRONT ABOUT IT EH? Anyway…enjoy my somewhat late rant, just know that next chapter will have a much more up to date rant)**

**Well guys we all knew this was coming. D&D being the smug cunts they are got to stand on a stage, holding those little gold statues and crow about how great they are whilst not admitting they fucked up…I've never wanted to beat two humans to death with my bare hands more in my life guys!**

**Seriously the only thing the Emmys told me was that Talent has no place in upper class Hollywood, those awards were so fucking rigged I wanted to rip D&D's smug grins from those mud holes they call faces. **

**The only good things about the Emmys:**

**Emilia and Kit showing solidarity with the fanbase (Kit didn't even bother watching the final season…good man) and Emilia being flattered at our support (True Queen, we stand with you) **

**Emilia herself, MY GOD SHE LOOKED LIKE A GODDESS! One of the most gorgeous women on the planet in my opinion**

**Gwendoline's dress…wow she dresses to impress**

**Final proof that the cast couldn't give two shits anymore (I mean, Nikolai was eating a fucking ice lolly…I mean wow)**

**Proof that Justice has no place in Hollywood, because if it did then D&D would be leaving with black eyes, broken jaws and half of their teeth missing and the other half broken instead of awards in their filthy, grubby, shitty and disease-ridden hands. **

**Smug cunts is the only way to describe those two faecal stains on the underpants of humanity. THOSE LITTLE YELLOW METAL STATUES DON'T MEAN FUCK ALL! YOUR WRITING SUCKS AND YOU SUCK AND I HOPE YOU TWO BURN IN HELL AFTER DYING IN THE WORST CAR ACCIDENT POSSIBLE…..wow it's been a while since I've had a rant like that…it felt good to let it out.**

**In summary: The two smug cunts that ruined the show can go get fucked, Kit and Emilia are too good for this world, Gwendoline's dress had more thought put into it than the script and Nikolai's only good experience at the Emmys was a good frozen treat and a laugh with his former co-workers.**

**ALSO: not rant related, going forward the Thenns in my version are much more like the book versions, AKA the only Free-Folk with a civilized society and brutally disciplined warriors and not all bald, scarred cannibals. No offence if you liked the show versions but they don't work with what I have planned.**

**Now…enough of my blabbering and ONTO THE SHOW!**

**Chapter 15: The Night Begins Part 3**

"DAAAAANY!" Jon cried out as he heard Drogon's yelp nearby; but his voice was being drowned out by the deafening sound of the wind. He could barely even see Rhaegal's head the snowstorm was so intense. Never had he been so grateful of his thick northern furs and his mixture of Valyrian and Stark Blood, without them he was sure he would be a dead man.

'_Where are you Dany?'_ Jon thought, his thoughts barely audible in his mind as the harsh wind threatened to pierce his ear drums.

The cold howling wind made Jon throw all senses to the wind; he tried to see if he could pick out the massive shadow of Drogon but he could not even see the back of Rhaegal's head the blizzard was so strong.

Those thoughts evaporated the moment a colossal black shape emerged from the blizzard and crashed into the side of Rhaegal. For a split second of terror and panic, Jon swore it were the Night King upon the back of Viserion, but when he noticed the lack of blue eyes on the dragon and the shock of silver clinging to the back he calmed.

'_Gods dammit!'_ Jon cursed within, as both Rhaegal and Drogon swerved to gain back their bearings.

"JON!" Dany called out when she in turn realized they had been reunited within the storm.

"STAY CLOSE!" Jon shouted at the very top of his lungs, hoping to the gods she could hear his words.

Dany as a Dragonrider with much more experience knew that was a bad idea. Flying blind like this so close together was a very bad idea. They had no clue where they were in relation to Winterfell, they could have veered miles away by now, the blizzard so strong it was a miracle they hadn't been blown off their dragons yet.

Daenerys knew the solution, and it was up. No matter the blizzard or storm it couldn't stretch upward forever. Jon wouldn't be able to hear her over the howling blizzard, so she found it better to lead by example.

Daenerys willed Drogon upwards; the black dragon curving upwards upon her whim and ascending to the heavens. Jon saw Daenerys and Drogon ascend and almost instantly understood her actions; he and Rhaegal soon followed, climbing upwards to pierce through the veil of clouds. Once above the clouds, Jon couldn't help but let out a slight gasp of awe; here the Moon wasn't obscured, its silver glow shining without hinderance, the clouds below creating a veil between the world above and the world below.

Up here the thundering wind of the blizzard below didn't interfere with their hearing. Both Jon and Daenerys' bodies were made to last on the backs of dragons, their bodies adapted to riding the great beasts of legend. Up here above the clouds; where other humans would struggle for breath or would freeze from the cold; they could breathe and think straight again.

But even in a moment like this, seeing the moonlight reflect off her silver locks was like a moment from a dream, the billowing white fur of her coat, the alabaster smoothness of her skin and those amazing violet eyes with the slightest hints of gold. But they were in the middle of a war, there would be time for him to worship her beauty later once the Night King was dead and his army with him.

But that was when Jon saw the shapes. Dark shapes gliding both above and below, smaller than the dragons but too big to be regular birds or crows.

"DANY! MOVE!" Jon screamed as Rheagal let out a cry of surprise and veered to the side as dozens of shapes emerged from the clouds below and dove downwards from above.

Daenerys barely had an instant to react as a pair of large talons came straight for her; luckily Drogon veered out of the way by instinct and the talons missed her by inches. The two dragons let out snarls of aggression as smaller flying shapes began swooping in around them; beaks and talons bared and looking for blood.

Thunderbirds, Condors, Vultures, large birds of prey of various sizes all circling the two huge dragons. Rhaegal opened his maw and shot out a large gout of flame; the fire managing to incinerate a few of the attacking birds, but most were fast enough to dive out of the way and towards the dragons and their riders.

Condors, Vultures, Eagles and Hawks began to swarm Jon and Daenerys on the backs of their dragons; the large talons of the Ariel predators raking against fur and dragon scales. The Dragon Queen clung close to Drogon's back to avoid any serious damage, luckily for her when Drogon beat his mighty wings and began to ascend; it became very difficult for their avian attackers to keep up.

Jon however didn't have such trouble with the birds swarming him; with a flash of silver, Longclaw was drawn and hacked and cleaved through the bones, feathers and sparse flesh of the smaller avian wights. A Large Thunderbird as big as a horse dug its claws into Rhaegal's hide, its 9-inch talons managing to find purchase in the armoured hide of the Dragon.

Jon let out a very dragon like snarl as he drove Longclaw into the head of the attacking Thunderbird; the undead bird letting out a shrill hiss of pain before he tore his blade from its cranium.

Rhaegal let out a cry of pain as another Thunderbird dug its talons into his right-wing membrane and sliced across it. The Dragon's yelp of pain was suddenly replaced with rage as his head craned towards his attacker. The Thunderbird was big, but when snapped up in the colossal jaws of Rhaegal, it was little more than foul tasting snack, especially when Rhaegal drenched it in flame whilst it was in his mouth.

'_Rhaegal! Up boy! where they can't keep up!'_ Jon commanded.

The Emerald Dragon roared as he beat his wings to keep up with his larger sibling. Winged wights in hot pursuit but unable to match the tremendous force given out by the mighty wings of the Dragons. Most of the smaller hawks and eagles were blown to smithereens, the gale force winds emitted from the dragon wing beats shattering their frail bodies like snow.

The Thunderbirds and the Condors however could stand the force and kept gaining on them; talons bared, and eyes trained on their quarry. The Dragons didn't have to go far until the air began to get unbearably thin and Daenerys and Jon had trouble breathing.

This was far enough.

As both Dragons peaked, they turned in the air and pointed their snouts downwards, wings tucked it and their tails ridged behind them. A single command rang through Jon and Daenerys' minds in their link with their dragons.

'_Dive'_

The sheer force of gravity, combined with the weight of the dragons turned the mighty beasts into speeding projectiles; their sheer mass, armoured hides and streamlined forms turning them into living arrows that would crush whatever was in their way.

Many of the condors and Thunderbirds that couldn't get out of the way there shattered like snow, their bodies unable to withstand the powerful force behind the dragons as they descended.

The veil of clouds parted as the two dragons pierced it like arrows through cloth, the storm below was still harsh and hard to see through; but Jon and Daenerys couldn't risk a prolonged battle against those Undead birds for much longer. Drogon and Rhaegal could fight them, but Jon and Daenerys would be vulnerable, Daenerys especially.

At least the Storm provided cover from the bloodthirsty flyers.

At least that is what Jon and Daenerys hoped.

* * *

"KEEP THEM OFF THE FUCKING WALLS!" Edd shouted at the top of his lungs before driving his dragonglass sword into the chest of a Wight before kicking it off the side of the battlement.

The Wights were swarming the walls of Winterfell like ants; the defenders rained whatever they could upon the attacking forces, hot oil, flaming arrows, even torches to set large swathes of the oil-covered undead on fire. But that didn't deter the attackers; as they snarled and screeched and climbed the walls like it was second nature to do so. The walls were packed with men, fending off the wights with swords, spears, axes and whatever they had on hand that could shatter a skull of kill a wight.

"DON'T GIVE THEM ANY GROUND!" Benjen yelled before slicing a Wight clean down the middle with Dark Sister.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK WE ARE DOING!?" Sandor yelled back as he held a Wight back at arm's length before pushing it away in order to bring his axe down on its head.

"BALLISTAE! INCOMING!" one of the defenders shouted, pointing at the massive shapes emerging from the hordes of the dead.

Giants, dozens of them, 20 feet at average, legs like tree trunks and arms like battering rams; snarling like beasts as they charged the walls of Winterfell. Edd took one look at the giants and signalled to the Night's Watchmen manning the Ballistae to ready their dragonglass tipped bolts. The mechanisms sliding into the place with loud metallic clanks as the operators took aim.

"FIRE!" Edd signalled; a huge volley of Dragonglass shafts as tall as a man sent hurdling towards the Giants; many of them hit their mark; the massive hulking brutes collapsing into piles of rotting meat and bone.

"WHERE THE FUCK ARE THOSE DRAGONS!?" Sandor yelled as the wights continued to pile upon each other in order to reach the walls.

"THEY'LL GET HERE! JUST KEEP FUCKING FIGHTING!" Tormund yelled as he decapitated another wight.

The chaos that seemed to engulf the walls of Winterfell was the stuff of nightmares, wights of various stages of decompositions fell by the dozens but nothing seemed to stop their swarm. The Valyrian steel and Dragonglass blades felled the wights like how steel would fell a living man, but men would show fear or despair after seeing their comrades cut down.

The army of the dead were free from restrains like fear and survival; their only driving force was destruction and death.

Arya spun her staff around; slicing open a flesh covered wight's throat before driving it through the eye socket of a wight in black. Gendry was right about these things; as sweat poured down the brow of the She-Wolf the wights would not falter, even one with intense Faceless man training could falter and tire when overwhelmed.

But luckily for her; she was being flanked by the best soldiers and warriors that Westeros and Essos had to offer. And the added benefit of an armoured Direwolf tearing the heads from any wights that got too close was an added benefit.

'_They just don't end'_ Arya thought wearily with fear as she sliced open the belly of a very rotted wight, its organs spilling out onto the snow.

Arya was suddenly sent falling to her back when the walls themselves began to shake and rumble uncontrollably. Arya had to take a second to regain her bearings until a single sound drilled through the air; overpowering the screeches of the Wights and the battle cries of the living.

The Trumpets of Mammoths.

Looking over at the horizon, it was easy to spot the massive lumbering shapes stampeding towards the walls, huge bleached white tusks, thick woollen hides and plates of bone and wood strapped onto them as a form of armour.

The Wights had their own undead battering rams.

"Seven protect us" Lyle gazed in awe and terror as the beasts stampeded towards the walls.

They needed those fucking dragons right now.

* * *

"Shhhh, it's alright little ones, the men outside are fighting hard to defend us" Missandei kept her arms wrapped around the little orphans, Jory and Uma. The two northern orphans stayed huddled against the Queen's closest friend, clinging to her for comfort like they would a mother.

Many of the parents' present held their children to them in similar ways, trying to comfort their little ones as best they could. The sounds of battle coming from outside didn't help to ease the nerves of the people huddling within, even as Sansa walked amongst them, offering words of comfort to those that would listen.

Sansa wouldn't admit that she was on the verge of breaking down in fear herself. She had lived through the siege of King's Landing, when Stannis was at the gates and she and Shae were in jeopardy. Then again back then, it was an army of stormlanders, and not the hordes of the undead. She hadn't seen the army of the dead herself, but the way Jon spoke of them, the way uncle Benjen and Bran spoke of them told her that the dead were not like any other army that had walked the earth before.

Perhaps she had been a fool, fearing Cersei over the dead in the first place. as she passed the scared civilians, the women and children that could not fight, the sick and the elderly, it was obvious how much worse this situation was than she had expected. She felt like a Horse's arse in the way she had dismissed Jon's warnings before he left for Dragonstone, the hostile way she greeted Daenerys without giving her a chance and her general bratty attitude towards her brother ever since she reunited with him.

Jon had the patience of a Saint.

"My Lady" Tyrion caught Sansa's attention as she sat down beside the Dwarf of Casterly Rock.

"Lord Tyrion" Sansa greeted as she sat beside him.

"I would think we would be past the stage of calling each other Lord and Lady by now don't you think?" Tyrion asked; trying to add some levity to the overall mood. It was sweet of the Lannister to try and calm her mood, but even Tyrion's wit could not help them in this situation.

"Something on your mind?" Tyrion asked as he seemed to produce a wineskin from out of nowhere.

"Did you honestly just ask that?" Sansa asked, asking if there was something on her mind when there currently a few hundred thousand things on her mind, all of which were upon the very walls of Winterfell as they spoke.

"Ah yes, stupid question now that I think about it…I find Wine always helps with problems such as this" Tyrion replied with a smile before taking a swig and holding it to Sansa.

The red wolf got flashbacks to Cersei offering her wine at the Battle of the Blackwater. Only Tyrion's smile was genuine and not the fake smug grin Cersei always had plastered on her face, and unlike the Blackwater, she didn't want the forces outside to perish in their defence of the castle.

"No thank you; I have to keep my head straight" Sansa shook her head; she had to keep her mind on track if they wanted any chance of survival, and wine certainly wouldn't help that.

"You know it's funny, how one contemplates their life when faced with certain death" Tyrion commented, not loud enough for anyone but he and Sansa to hear.

"What do you mean by that, Tyrion?"

"Ever since Joffrey died…as merciful moment of relief as it was, I've found my life to be this large blur of mistakes, disappointment and shame…perhaps if I had kept a level head like you are doing now then perhaps we would be in a better situation than the one we have" Tyrion smiled before lowering the wineskin.

"Everyone makes mistakes; I wouldn't believe in the army of the dead if Jon hadn't been the one who told me" Sansa replied with an understanding tone.

"It's not just that…I'm failing her just by being down here, completely useless whilst the men outside fight. At the Blackwater I was of use; the city would have fallen without me" Tyrion replied sourly before taking another swig.

Tyrion had obviously been occupying his time with his first great love, Wine.

"Tyrion…you know that fighting living men and fighting those things outside aren't the same thing. Also, there is the fact that unlike the battle at the Blackwater, there are plenty of people outside worthy of our trust" Sansa replied.

It was true, at Blackwater, Tyrion was the only strategic mind worth a dam, but here they had plenty of battle-hardened commanders leading the defence of the walls of her ancestral home. Jon, Daenerys, Ser Jorah, Ser Jamie, Ser Brienne, her uncle Benjen and Lord Royce were experienced enough from what she had heard.

Hells, Jon and Uncle Benjen had been fighting these things for the past few years while she was busy being abused and sold around like livestock.

"I remember Varys saying something about me being the kingdom's best chance for peace somewhere in the past…or some shit like that, Honestly the wine is making it a bit fuzzy…if only we knew about those icy fuckers back then…" Tyrion went back to his…sulking? Contemplating? Honestly it was hard to tell at this point.

"Mind if I?" Sansa held her hand out, asking for the wineskin.

"…dear wife…you drink now?" Tyrion smirked before handing the wineskin to Sansa.

"I remember you saying to get used to it…can't bear the taste but…I can see the appeal" Sansa accepted the wineskin before taking a quick sip "…Also…wife?" she asked with a raised brow.

"Bad Joke I know…but still, we were technically married, if for a short and…painful time" Tyrion chuckled.

"You were the best of them you know? My husbands" Sansa smiled.

"…Now that is a terrifying thought" Tyrion smirked back.

* * *

"BRACE THAT FUCKING GATE! KEEP IT SHUT!" Lyle shouted at the top of his lungs before bringing his foot down on a crawling wight, crushing its skull beneath his armoured sabaton.

The defence of the walls had turned into complete pandemonium; the walls had turned into a blood bath, bodies scattered and mutilated, the bloodied snow making it hard for anyone to keep their balance; the hordes of the undead charging without remorse and seemingly without end.

Down below, the Unsullied, the Crakehall Infantry, the Northern forces and many of the Wildlings braced their bodies against the gates; holding the gate shut with large prepared timbers; as the wights came upon the gates like water against rock. They weren't doing enough damage yet, but given time the entire gate would shatter.

"We can't hold the walls for much longer!" Jorah carved through a wight with heartsbane as Benjen decapitated another with Dark Sister.

"We just have to hold out for Jon and Daenerys! Don't falter or we're all dead!" the First Ranger replied with an eerie calmness that the others didn't expect in a situation such as this.

"KEEP FIRING! FIRE AT WILL!" Jamie ordered the archers in the rear as he sliced Widow's wail as best as he could through the charging wights, Brienne doing a much better job with Oathkeeper and two fully functioning hands.

The hails of fiery arrows did little to stop the charging hordes of the undead; doing little more than slow them down as those felled became small obstacles to the shrieking hordes behind them. Dragonglass and Valyrian steel fell upon the dead flesh and bones of the wights, but it did little to cull the swell of their seemingly endless numbers.

Alys Karstark stood with the large section of archers; constantly in the state of igniting arrows and letting them fly over the wall. She was a young thing, arguably young to be in combat and far too young to experience such horrors that would make grown men soil themselves.

"Keep at it men!" she called, nocking another shaft before lighting it in a nearby brazier.

"LOOK OUT BELOW!" one of the defenders on the wall shouted as a loud screech rang through the air; dark shadows emerging from the skies above, talons outstretched for anything that moved. 5 Thunderbirds dived down below and plucked 5 men from the floor; their claws slicing through armour and hauling the men into the skies like they were nothing. Alys nocked another flaming arrow and let it fly, the arrow finding its mark in the chest of a diving thunderbird; the Avian killer swerving away in order to make its way into the storm above where the ice cold winds would blow out the fire before it was consumed.

Apparently these wights had basic self-preservation instincts ingrained in them.

Alys was pulled out of her thoughts when a different screeching pierced the air; as two full grown Terrorbirds leapt over the walls and bypassed the defenders there. Standing at 9-foot-tall, the flightless Terrorbirds stampeded towards the archers and soon the courtyard was drenched in blood. The archers were not prepared for close quarters combat and that showed as the two terrorbirds tore them limb from limb.

Alys fell backwards as one of the terrorbirds loomed over her; blood dripping from its massive beak as it prepared to rip into her. Suddenly, a dragonglass arrow found its way into the giant bird's gullet, the magic that kept the creature together faltering as the creature fell into a pile of rotting flesh and bone.

Alys turned her head to see her saviour, a Wildling man, a few years older than her, face smeared with black and white war paint and a black mohawk turning into a braid. Wearing segments of bronze armour on black leathers, in his hand he held a longbow, on his back was a dragonglass battle axe. With a loud roar he led a charge of 100 similarly dressed men, wearing segments of polished bronze armour, faces painted for war.

Thenns, she remembered her father telling stories of them. Cannibals, eaters of the flesh of their slain enemies…the truth couldn't be more different. The Thenns were the most civilized of the Free Folk, but they were also the most savage in combat of the Free Folk. The remaining Terrorbird didn't stand a chance as it fell to dragonglass weapons, wielded by men that were used to facing the 9-foot-tall predators. Alys' saviour walked over to her after retrieving his dragonglass arrow from the fallen Terrorbird.

"Thank you" Alys held out her hand, almost expecting the Thenn boy to help her to her feet. But the Thenn boy simply tilted his head at the gesture before grabbing her hand and hefting her to her feet.

"…Your welcome" he replied with a heavily accented voice before looking to the walls and signalling for his men to follow him, roaring a few words in the Old Tongue before joining the battle.

"My Lady get back!" Lord Glover ran over to the young Karstark, grabbing her arm in his.

"Lord Glover…I…" she stuttered.

"The battlefield is no place for a young lady like you. Get inside with the children and leave this to the men" Glover scalded her like she was his daughter. Before she had a chance to retort the old lord lead his men towards the north eastern walls which were in dire need of reinforcements.

Any proper lady would have heeded Lord Glover's orders, but Alys Karstark was no proper lady, the young Karstark took up her bow and steeled herself. She was a proud northerner; and she wasn't going to sit around while other men fought for her.

Arya would have nodded approvingly if she weren't fighting for her life. The lessons from the faceless men unfortunately didn't come with infinite Stamina; so, fighting hordes of almost infinite wights wasn't what she was made for. Arya was handy with her bladed staff, her balance and skill with the weapon were very polished but her skill set was built around assassination, she wasn't suited to this kind of combat.

But luckily the pure white armoured Direwolf beside her more than made up for her mismatched skill set. Ghost in his armour was like a machine of death, his powerful jaws tearing wights to pieces, ripping off limbs and heads easily like tearing paper and his special armour making it extremely difficult for any wight to harm him.

Anytime a Wight brought a knife or axe down upon the mighty wolf it simply slid off or stopped dead in its tracks against the armoured plates of the brigandine. Ghost may not have liked how it felt on him in the first place; but the Direwolf would have liked being stabbed or slashed much less.

Ghost tore a Night's Watchman wight's legs clean off, allowing Arya to bring her staff down into its chest. The two wolves kept fighting, snarling and hacking and biting at their undead enemies; but even the ferocity of the Stark and her brother's Direwolf would not last forever.

They needed help right now.

Where in the hells were those dragons?

* * *

The beating of huge dragon's wings would usually echo through the air as Daenerys flew on the back of her beloved Drogon; but right now, the only sounds making an echo where those of the howling wind and the thundering storm around them. Daenerys clung to the back of her dragon, trying to acclimate herself in the storm as she and Jon rode downwards; hoping for the ground to come into view at any second now.

The clouds broke and Daenerys did her best to rear upward; to stop Drogon from crashing headfirst into the hordes of the undead below. Thank the Gods of Old Valyria that Dragons were masters of the air; able to veer away at a moment's notice.

Drogon opened his maw and immediately let loose a jet of flames into the hordes below; wights burning and falling into piles of ash and charmed meat. Looking around a gaining back her bearings, Dany found that she and Drogon had flown far away, so far that the lights of Winterfell looked like stars in the distance.

It spoke volumes of the vastness of the army of the dead that they were still swarming below her from this far out. Daenerys made a beeline for Winterfell, her people needed her and Jon right now; their ranks were probably being overwhelmed this very moment.

Drogon blew streams of fire onto the hordes below him every chance he got; Dany didn't discourage him, every wight he killed was one less wight that could kill her people. But when Daenerys got within a mile of the castle, she heard something; a roar from above; a familiar roar. Dany knew what her sons all sounded like; she could tell Drogon from Rhaegal and she could certainly tell Rhaegal from Viserion.

"Viserion?" Dany spoke out loud; emotions brimming.

* * *

Bran's eyes shot back, wide open and full of fear.

"He's here" the young Greenseer said.

* * *

Jon could feel the cold wind threatening to freeze the liquid on his eyes solid, even with his Targaryen and Stark blood the wind was colder than all the blizzards he had felt in the past; on his incursions beyond the wall. Rhaegal, ever the mighty dragon; managed to power through the harsh winds as he flew downwards, trailing behind Daenerys and Drogon.

This was bad, they couldn't afford to be out of each other's sight for too long. For all they knew, they could have been caught in the middle of some trap set by the Night King and his White Walkers. All it would take is one of those dreaded ice spears and they would be down one dragon and one Rider.

It was a thought that sent shocks of panic into Jon's mind. He could still hear the cries of Rhaegal and Drogon after the death of Viserion. He could still see the look of anguish on Dany's face on the boat from Eastwatch, that beautiful visage turned to utter sadness.

It was a thought that filled Jon with a fiery resolve. His Dany would never feel that pain again if he had any say in it.

From the snort of agreement through their link; Jon could tell Rhaegal felt the same way.

As Jon was about to break through the layer of storm clouds below; a dark shape flickered in the peripherals of his vision. A large shape, as large as Rhaegal was gliding through the clouds beside him; that was when the thought hit Jon.

Daenerys was in front of him, not beside him.

Shit.

The Lord of Winterfell had no time to react as a pair of jaws shot out from the clouds and clamped around Rhaegal's neck, just a few feet short of where Jon was perched. The green dragon let out a loud howl of pain that pierced through the howling of the blizzard as Viserion's teeth managed to slice through Rhaegal's tough armoured hide.

Rhaegal's form went hurdling in mid-air as the two mighty dragons began to spin and struggle in the skies. Claws on the end of feet raking across scaled hides, tails lashing backwards and forwards, the Emerald Dragon's claws carving through Viserion to try to make him relinquish his grip; however, the undead nightmare did not relent. Jon tried his best to keep his hold on Rhaegal's spines; the harsh winds threatening to blow him from the back of his mount. Even from the back of Rhaegal, with the wind blowing, the emerald dragon screeching and Viserion trying to rip his brother's neck to shreds; Jon could feel the unearthly presence of the one riding the fallen Dragon.

The unearthly blue eyes of the Night King himself bored deeply into Jon's soul; his icy blue hands gripping the spines of Viserion as lightly as could be, as if this battle in the skies was a mere trifle not worthy of his attention.

Jon grimaced as Rhaegal tore his neck free from the jaws of Viserion, a few stray teeth still lodged in his armoured hide and blood oozing from the fresh wounds. The Green Dragon with a mighty roar; tore himself free from the grip of his deceased brother. With an almighty lash of his tail; Rhaegal managed to bash the head of Viserion; a few more teeth flying loose from his maw as he manoeuvred out of the way.

Rhaegal; now free from the grasp of Viserion reared his head back and gave let loose a jet of flames from his mouth. The flames grazed Viserion's head before he veered forward and his head collided with Rhaegal's mid-section.

'_Rider hold on' _Rhaegal's voice pierced through Jon's head as he let out a grunt.

Viserion and Rhaegal fought tooth and claw; fangs and claws slashing and gouging wherever they could; Rhaegal's reflexes much faster than those of Viserion; the undead dragon's muscles and tendons experiencing much worse wear and tear.

Rhaegal's jaws found one of the undead Dragon's wings, the snapping and cracking of bones filling the air as the emerald dragon chewed on his brother's right wing. Jon allowed himself to hope for a moment; that the living and far sturdier Rhaegal would be able to send his fallen brother hurdling to the ground, a dragon with one wing can't exactly stay in the air for long can it?

But the moment the Night King reached behind him and pulled out one of those dreaded ice spears, the hope turned to dread and panic.

'_Pull back! Pull back!'_ Jon tried to will to Rhaegal, the Dragon not responding as the sounds of battle echoed through the howling wind.

But before the King of the Lands of always Winter could let his spear loose, a gargantuan black shape crashed into Viserion's side. The Night King for the first time in this battle needing to steady himself; grabbing onto Viserion's spines and dropping his ice spear in the process. Drogon's massive claws dug into Viserion's hide; blackened blood spilling from the new wounds.

Rhaegal shook himself free from his brother's grip now that Drogon had entered the fray, blood seeping from his gashes and cuts as he began to descend. The clash had brought all three riders down below the storm clouds; not one of the dragonriders' attentions being on the battle below.

Jon, Daenerys and even the Night King had more worrisome things to concentrate on. Rhaegal managed to right himself after a moment of disorientation; Viserion snarling in what could be assumed was anger if not annoyance as Drogon tore into his deceased brother. Dany held on tight to Drogon's spikes as her rage and Drogon's merged into one; pure emotion brimming to her surface as Drogon voiced it through his bestial roars and snarls.

Anger, fury, vengeance, retribution, grief, all were the same in the eyes of a Dragon.

Drogon tore chunks of skin and hide from Viserion's back; his maw tearing into his brother's back as he tried to put the fallen Dragon out of his misery.

Viserion's rider however did not have the time or patience for this; as the Night King Reached out and grabbed Drogon's snout as soon as he came within reach. Within a split second, ice began to appear over the black dragon's snout; spreading from the place where the Night King had touched.

'_DROGON!'_ Dany cried out as Drogon let out a screech of pain and broke off from his onslaught.

Jon and Rhaegal's rage merged, mingling and becoming one will; the sight of Drogon breaking off in a panic, the sound of his cry and the feelings of pain and fear filling the link reaching both the White Wolf and his Emerald Mount. Rhaegal's head connected with Viserion's underbelly; a loud and audible crack filling the air as Rhaegal's thick skull broke something within Viserion's chest.

As if broken ribs or punctured lungs meant anything to a creature that didn't need to breath.

Drogon screeched in more shock than anything as the frost ceased spreading when he let loose an especially powerful jet of flames. The Dragon fire seemed to counteract the creeping frost that came from the grasp of the Night King; magic fighting magic it seemed.

'_Calm my child, calm'_ Daenerys tried to sooth her son's nerves; hoping her voice would stop his screeching and allow him to concentrate on the battle before them.

Viserion let out one long and loud screech; a noise that Dany and Jon had never heard from as both grimaced and had to resist the urge to bring their hands to shield their ears. Drogon let out a pained screech as Rhaegal was forced to break away from his assault on the creature that was once his brother. Now free from Rhaegal's grip; Viserion quickly darted back into the clouds above, his dark shape disappearing back into the storm clouds above.

The last thing Jon saw as he looked to the retreating dragon was the Night King; calmly looking over his shoulder.

And the visage of a small but satisfied smirk on his face.

That Smirk put more fear through Jon's heart than the sight of the seemingly endless hordes of Dead below. The Night King wasn't just attacking them for no reason; there was a method to this. That is when Jon realized something.

When Viserion attacked them; Daenerys came to their rescue. That meant their forces down below were without Dragons for support for even longer.

Oh no.

It was all a diversion.

'_Rhaegal! Down below! Now!'_ Jon urged the emerald Dragon downwards. The Urgency in Jon's mind mingled with Rhaegal and therefore into Daenerys and Drogon.

They couldn't afford to waste anymore time.

* * *

"HOLD THEM BACK! DON'T LET THEM THROUGH!" Lyle yelled as he rammed his gauntleted fist into the open maw of a Wight; growling like an angry Bull before literally tearing what was left of its head off.

"Easier said than done you cunt!" Bronn yelled back before driving his sword into the belly of a Wildling Wight.

The defenders on the wall was stuck in the middle of a vicious bloodbath; the wights had not faltered in their bloodhungry assault as they did everything, they could to tear asunder the living forces on the battlements. Some wights had abandoned their humanity so much that they had resorted to tearing out throats with their bare teeth.

"The Giants and Mammoths are retreating! Keep peppering the fuckers Boys!" Edd signalled the archers and ballistae men to keep firing.

Flaming arrows and dragonglass shafts spiralled through the air and met their marks; hundreds of wights being felled with each new volley; but with the sheer numbers of the wights it would take days to make a sizeable dent in the endless horde.

The wights suddenly began to halt in their assault; the living corpses seemingly retreating from the walls and regrouping near the bases of the walls.

'Why are they stopping? They have us pinned so why not keep our attention divided? Unless…' Jamie pondered; but before he could finish his thought the sound of flesh being pierced filled the air, an arterial spray drenching the Lannister's face as his attention was brought beside him.

Standing there on the edge of the battlements; one hand filled with the freshly severed head of a Night's Watchman was a White Walker. The Walker was wearing what looked to be black light leather armour, like what a ranger or a scout would wear; it's face was mostly obscured by a mask that covered everything but its glowing blue eyes.

The Walker threw the severed head to Jamie before raising its Ice spear and letting out a long and shrill shriek. Long and gnarly looking legs began to creep over the edges of the walls and packs of massive Spiders began to crawl over the battlements. Many as large as war hounds, some as big as horses with Walkers riding on their backs.

The fire wall should have kept the Walkers from flanking the battlements; but the defenders had been so preoccupied with keeping the wights at bay and deterring the Giants and Mammoths from the gates that they had neglected the Walkers themselves encroaching upon them.

The Walker in light armour pointed its ice spear at the defenders on the wall and within a second every single Wight went blitzing back into action; sprinting at the walls and clamouring over the many piled corpses.

The battle had not ceased; it had only just begun.

**I know everyone, 'this long and you end with another Fucking cliffhanger?' but like I've said there is a lot of shit going on in my life at the mo, so I have a lot less time than usual to write, honestly I barely got this chapter done before needing to fucking sleep because I have work at 5:30 in the morning. **

**Hopefully this will hold you guys down until my next update which should be much, much, much juicier.**

**As always be sure to let me know what you thought in the reviews or even ask me your queries in the form of a PM. **

**DAKKAMAN77 OUT!**


	16. The Night Begins Part 4

**HAPPY NEW YEAR AND MERRY CHRISTMAS (if I am quite a bit late admittedly) **

**Well everyone I am here officially hoping that the wait wasn't as long or painful as last time, But ANYWAY, I Promised a few of you another rant…this one more up to date. A lot of stuff has happened in the wait for the last chapter, many things relating to GoT, Season 8, the cast and crew and those two walking (Somewhat) sentient Turds that wrote that garbage fire of a last season. **

**I suppose you guys want to know my opinions on said matters and find entertainment in the unbridled rage that is Dakkaman777 eh? **

**Well first off, I can honestly say that on the positives that ally my hate filled comments on D&D turned out to be totally justifiable and not just the words of someone mad at a pair of shit writers; apparently those two were blatant about not caring about the fans or even caring about the source material (fuckers admitted they have zero idea why GRRM had any faith in them) fine with guilt tripping Emilia into her nude scenes and fine with making a baby suffer just to get a camera shot of its junk…Wow They are absolute cunts!**

**So I hope you all share the sentiment with me that they deserved to lose that Disney Star Wars deal (only fucking idiots would believe that those retards chose not to continue with it; even those two aren't that fucking braindead) and that soon Netflix will smarten up and sever all ties with them and that hopefully they end up jobless, in jail or…my favourite…stark bollock naked and being chased by hungry bears in the middle of the woods during a hail storm. **

**On another note, that Season 8 blu-ray and all its deleted scenes can go rot in a fucking ditch, Sorry HBO but you killed every piece of my excitement for the franchise after what you let D&D do. What…you expect me to care after 'Bran the Broken'? You expect me to give two fucks about the garbage you DIDN'T keep in the series? FUCK OFF, I'm not even going to watch House of Dragons when it comes out…you know why? Because it doesn't fucking matter anymore, the series, the franchise is forever tainted…like D&D injected it with every known STD to man and every one known to every other species on the planet. **

**With every bit of seriousness, Fuck Benioff, Fuck Weiss, fuck them both and fuck anyone that ever genuinely stood up for them or said yes to one of their braindead ideas. **

**As for people that shouldn't fuck off, I must show my support for people that continually give me great support whilst writing great stories themselves. As always, my good friend Longclaw 1_6 check out his ongoing story 'My Father's Son' and his Collab with Bruh4 'Heart of the Blessed'. ALSO, two new guys who have surprised me, check out WhiteWolf04 and his story 'The Kingdom of Ice and Fire' and of course Elphaba818's 'Howl of the Dragonwolves' all of them are great reads and be sure to show them your support!**

**Now…Onto the chapter XD **

**The Night Begins Part 4**

Panic.

That's the name one would give to the key state of mind of very much everyone in defence of the Winterfell walls. Men were falling back in hundreds; those able bodied enough doing all they could to help the retreat, Unsullied shields creating a rock-hard wall of steel for those fast and agile enough to not get sliced down.

Gendry swung his war maul; knocking a skeletal wight's head clean off its shoulders as he slowly made his way back.

The young Smith thanked the gods that the gates were still holding; then again by the sounds of heavy thudding and the way the wood was beginning to splinter and break, that wouldn't be very much longer.

"ARYA! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU!?" Gendry screamed as loud as he could.

Before the young Baratheon bastard had time to call again, he was tackled to the ground by a huge Wight with a balding head and face littered with scars. But before the creature had the time to even try and gut him.

*TWIP!*

A flaming arrow sunk into its head; giving Gendry the opportunity to kick it off him and swing his maul again; this time knocking its head square off of its rotting shoulders. Looking up to the secondary gates to meet eyes with his saviour he saw none other than the young woman he was calling to in the first place.

"COME ON YOU DUMB CUNT! FALL BACK!" Arya growled like angry she-wolf as she nocked another arrow and let it loose. Sandor Clegane would have been proud of her tone and choice of words.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" Edd shouted at the top of his lungs as he cut down a screeching wight. What remained of the Night's Watch where in full retreat; abandoning the war machines that were keeping the Giants and Mammoths at bay.

The Ballistae didn't last long; for as soon as the Watchmen retreated, they were engulfed in ice as the Walkers tore them to pieces with their bare hands. Three brave souls clad in Black tried to fight off the Walkers as they destroyed the war machines; but they were promptly beheaded in one swing by a Walker that stood well over 7 feet, head to toe in armour made of blackened ice.

"_**SKREEEEEEEEEEEE!"**_ the Walker let out a piercing howl as it raised its bloodstained ice sword.

One Walker in light black armour observed the retreating forces of the living through its black face mask. The Walker raised its hand and a javelin of ice materialized in its palm; raising the weapon back and closing one eye, using its thumb as a makeshift iron sight it aimed carefully.

"FALL BACK LADS! FALL BACK!" Edd shouted at the top of his lungs as what remained of the Night's Watch retreated as fast as they could.

Ser Lyle cleaved a Wight wolf with Tusk, the blade splitting the creature's head down the middle. The StrongBoar of Crakehall was beginning to feel the aches of battle take their toll as blood trickled down his face; threatening to obscure his vision.

"FALL BACK TO THE SECONDARY GATES!" he shouted as he wiped the blood out of his face; a smear of crimson acting like warpaint across his grimace.

The walls were lost; as gigantic pale spiders and wights began swarming the perimeter. The arrival of the Walkers had turned the tide for the worst; when the icy devils began cutting down men on the walls as if they were made of paper, it was hard to muster the men to stand their ground.

Many of the Walkers simply stood on the walls; their ethereal blue eyes glaring into the souls of anyone that looked their way. The Wights were made for the front lines; the Walkers simply cleaned up the scraps at their own leisure.

The lines of Unsullied continued to fall back; the Freefolk, Northern forces, Westerlanders and assorted forces of the living using the shield line to cover their retreat. The Wights began to lessen in their assault; now pulling back as the gates splintered and shook; human wights tearing at the primary gates from within as gods knows what attacked them from the outside.

Grey Worm urged his forces to back up whilst keeping their footing; the shield wall could not fail; they had lost enough men already and none of them knew for how much longer this battle would last.

"Mizadá vi zdaguno!" Grey Worm shouted to his fellow Unsullied. The black clad troops slowly falling back as men retreated behind them. The secondary gates began to shut; the sight of Human wights ripping down trebuchets and catapults in full view as well as the sight of monstrous shapes emerging from behind the primary gates.

A few dozen wights managed to squeeze in through the closing gates before they slammed shut. A mere moment before the gates closed a flash of white rushed through the gap and made contact with the retreating forces of the living; the living whom were so panicked in closing the gates that they didn't look to see where the flash ended up. The few dozen being quickly cut down when trapped between the forces of the living and the thick secondary gates.

"GET THE TIMBERS! BRACE THE GATES! MAN THE WALLS!" Jamie ordered before he began wheezing for breath; the utter panic of the situation sinking in.

"Lord commander!" a voice snapped Jaime out of his wheezing.

All eyes turned to see the Last lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Dolorus Edd; standing there with a javelin of ice protruding from his mid-section. The young commander had a look of utter shock on his face as blood leaked from his mouth. Edd let out a pained grunt as he dropped his sword and failed to fall to his knees when he realized that the javelin practically nailed him to the floor as it had been thrown at a downward angle.

One of the Night's Watchmen tried to pull the javelin from Edd; but as soon as they touched the weapon their hands began to freeze; pulling their hands away to see their gloves overcome with frost and ice.

"AAAAGH!" one of the men shouted as he took off his gloves to see his hands turning black and his fingers begin to unnaturally curl and shrivel.

"DON'T TOUCH IT!" Benjen yelled as he pushed a few Watchmen out of the way.

Grabbing the Javelin with his already frostbitten hands; Benjen managed to release Edd so he could fall to the ground. Unlike the Watchman before, Benjen's hands had already felt the unnatural cold of a Walker's blade, the magic of the old gods that flowed through him now made him somewhat immune to the effects of their ice. The Lone Wolf broke the javelin over his knee; the weapon shattering into a thousand pieces like freshly fallen snow.

Edd's hands went to his abdomen; blood slowly flowing from the wound as a few men tried to help him right himself.

"Edd…are you alright?" Benjen knelt beside him.

"I have…a fucking hold in my chest…what do you think?" Edd spluttered as red stained his lips. Benjen shook his head before inspecting the wound; to say it looked bad would have been an understatement; the wounds itself was grizzly and had shredded a good few feet of intestines both small and large; but the area around the wound was going black and frostbitten.

"Get Maester Wolkan!" one of the Northmen shouted.

"Don't waste your time" Benjen replied regretfully.

"…there's no stitching this up is there?" Edd asked.

"…I'm afraid not Edd…and you won't die fast, I know from experience" Benjen replied.

"Can you do anything?" Edd asked between pained grimaces.

"All I can offer is to finish it quick…and make sure you don't come back with blue eyes" Benjen replied.

"…Tell Jon and Sam…I'm sorry" Edd pleaded.

"I will" Benjen drew Dark Sister and held it above the last Lord Commander's heart.

"…do it" Edd squeezed his eyes shut.

With a quick plunge it was done; a spurt of crimson staining the snow red as the First Ranger ended the suffering of the last Lord Commander. For the reign of 999 Lord Commanders the Night's Watch had defended the lands of the living against the White Walkers; and here on the eve of the first battle for the dawn south of the wall, the 999th Lord Commander perished in the walls of Winterfell.

"…And now his watch has ended" Benjen said as he reached up to close Edd's eyes.

"And now his watch has ended" the remaining Night's Watchmen said in unison.

"Arya!" Gendry ran up the stairs to the She-Wolf with a bow in her hands.

Arya spared a moment to smile and pull Gendry into her arms; or rather her into his arms. Ghost whined as he tilted his head to the side; the two pulled away and Gendry began inspecting her for any damage.

No cuts or grazes and the blood stains weren't her own, all was good.

Arya rolled her eyes as she realized Gendry was covered in grazes; bruises and a particularly nasty gash on his forehead, yet here he was worrying about her state. Arya then turned to look over the edge of the wall at the swarms of wights; hell bent on destroying the war machines they had spent so long building and setting up.

"Get everyone up here, this night is far from over" Arya spoke to Gendry, her eyes fixed on the Walkers stood on the primary walls; their eyes locked with hers.

Down below the gates were already under assault; the gathered forces of the living held their bodies against the gates as best they could. Snow shifting underneath armoured feet as westerlander knights and heavy Infantrymen used their weight to act in the same way as living barricades. Free Folk, Ice River clansmen, Thenn warriors, Cave people, Hornfoots and Nightrunners and what else remained of the collected people of the true north huddling behind the westerlanders at the gates.

The Unsullied, Dothraki on foot, Northern houses like the Umbers, Karstarks and Glovers and even newly revived Stark bannermen, all working in tandem to keep the gates shut. The sight of these men from all corners of the globe working together would have been an inspiring one if not for the hordes of the dead just outside the gates.

"Those gates won't hold for long; they are thinner than the primary gates and we have less defensible positions!" Jorah yelled out; speaking quietly or at room volume now impossible at this point. The sounds of the dead drowning out every spoken word that wasn't yelled.

"Hold the gates for as long as possible; this is our last stand and we cannot afford to falter!" Brienne yelled back.

"It won't take long for those cunts to find a way around the gates; it's only a matter of time" Bronn swore as he sat down on a nearby barrel.

"Arya!" Benjen called for his niece, the young Wolf running down to her uncle; closely followed by Gendry and Ghost.

"Go to Bran; he'll be needing you soon" Benjen said.

"No, you need me here!" Arya replied.

"We have fighters; but Bran needs another Stark by his side, now go" Benjen's gaze was brought to the walls where fresh wights were engaging the defenders stationed on the top.

"You can't expect me to just leave the battlefield, Uncle Benjen. I'm not a coward or some high lady that could break a nail" Arya growled back; but the growl she gave was cut short when Benjen sharply grabbed her arm and pulled her in close.

"You are a killer Arya; a killer that can hide in the shadows and strike with silence, you need to be where you can be of most use, not here in the midst of combat!" Benjen snarled like a wolf, his patience wearing thin.

"Gendry and Ghost come with me" Arya whispered back with a glare of her own. But the next words to leave Benjen's mouth and the implication of their meaning sent chills of fear up her spine.

"They will be safer here…trust me"

_***SCREEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAH!***_

A loud and piercing screech filled the air; unlike the screeches that the Walkers made; deeper and with a throatier bass to it. Benjen knew what that sound was; and it was a sign that Arya had to get to Bran now!

Suddenly; a jet of blue flame lit up the sky; reigning down on the gates themselves and freezing the fighters on the parapets. The blue flames seemed to both burn and freeze, scorching flesh black with frostbite and causing men to fall to their knees screaming before they faces and limbs fell off.

He was here!

"Arya! Get to Bran! Now!" Benjen let go of Arya and pointed to the Godswood.

Gendry grabbed Arya's arm before she had a chance to run for it "You aren't leaving without me" he said with desperation in his eyes. The way the battle had been going she hadn't had a chance to see that look of dread and fear in his eyes. It was the look of a man who was afraid of losing the only thing of meaning to him.

Arya reached out and cupped his cheek "You have to stay here…my brother needs me. I can count on my strong Stag, right?" she smiled with the same fear in her eyes before pulling his lips to hers. Their eyes closed as they shut out the chaos around them; neither knowing if they would see each other again after they broke apart.

After their lips separated; Arya kept Gendry's face close; her right hand cupping his face whilst his arms encircled her waist; their breath misting between them as they gasped.

"You stay alive, you hear me?" she whispered.

"…as you wish…milady" Gendry replied.

Their eyes opened and not a hateful glance was even directed at the Young Blacksmith; with regret like none other Arya forced their separation "Ghost, you protect him!" she called over her shoulder before making a mad dash to the gates of the Godswood.

The white Direwolf gave a low whimper before looking up at Gendry.

"…Fuck" Gendry cursed as he hefted his war maul and turned to the gates.

* * *

"What in seven hells is going on out there?" one of the Ironborn asked.

"The end of the fucking world…like in the old stories" another replied.

"I say we run; we don't have to die here, so far from the sea" another Ironborn chipped in. A surprisingly strong hand grabbed this Ironborn by the scruff of the neck and yanked him backwards.

"We stand our ground dam you…we are Ironborn; we don't flee like fucking cowards. Your queen would be fucking ashamed of you, here I thought I was the one with nought between his legs" Theon didn't growl; but the weight of his words spoke for themselves.

The Ironborn shook himself off and tried not to concentrate on the scowls some of his fellow reavers were giving him. Theon had earned quite a fair bit of respect from the men in his rescue of Yara; he was more than just the Eunuch son of Balon Greyjoy.

Theon sat back down at his vigil as the men began to return to their posts. Running a finger over the blade of his dragonglass axe; Theon couldn't begin to blame them. These, things that had even Jon spooked, he wasn't looking forward to facing them in the slightest; hells he was beginning to think a run-in with his uncle was preferable to this situation.

Funny how it took the end times to make him soften up to his murderous uncle.

"Theon" came a soft and familiar voice.

"Sansa" he replied as the redhead sat down next to him.

"How are you holding up?" she asked with concern.

"Could be better" he smiled back; but Sansa could tell the smile was forced to hide the inner fear and trepidation in his voice. She could relate, hiding fear was something had become an expert at; in a way those months in the 'care' of Ramsay Bolton had prepared her for this.

Strange how things turned out in their own sinister and painful ways.

"When I was a little girl, I always thought that I never wanted to die in these walls. That I would die down south, in a beautiful castle with a king for a husband and all the stupid little things I dreamed about…" Sansa said.

"And now?" Theon asked.

"Dying here…in my home…I never should have taken that honour for granted" Sansa reached out and took Theon's hand "And to be fair, I could have had worse company at the end" she smiled.

"You won't die here…not if I have anything to say about it" Theon replied.

"Thank you, Theon. But right now; with those things clawing at the gates outside…I can't help but think about the end…how did you imagine dying?" Sansa asked; the conversation going morbid.

They had reached that point, where they were talking for the sake of talking, the hushed words that the Kraken and the Wolf shared were for their ears only and gods know they had spoke about worse to each other. At the end of all things came a strange comfort in simply talking to someone you were close to.

Even if the subject was based around death.

"I always used to say that an Ironborn should die in combat, and have their body buried at sea; it's certainly what my father and sister thought…but here and now…just dying for a reason would do for me" Theon replied.

"…When I was…not Theon, Ramsay had me scared every moment of every day; that he would just get tired and choose to end it…sometimes I wished for it to end the pain and the suffering. But every time I wanted him to end it, I would remember who would be waiting on the other side; Lady Stark, Sir Roderick, Maester Luwin, Robb…Lord Stark…Rickon…" Theon began; a slight tremble in his voice.

"But you didn't die then, Ramsay didn't break me, and he failed to break you. Ramsay is roasting in the seven hells and we are both alive…for now. If we die tonight, my mother, father, Robb and Rickon they'll be proud of us…proud to see us come so far. No longer the stupid little girl playing at Queen and the…ego driven Greyjoy ward" Sansa smirked as she finished; her smirk turning to a smile when it coaxed a chuckle out of Theon.

"I'm glad you came back" Sansa smiled at Theon.

"…me too" Theon couldn't help but smile back.

*THUD!*

Theon instantly grabbed Sansa's hand as the sound rung through their ears; the sound came from above as if something had hit the roof above them. That was a worrying thought as the battle raged on outside. Looking out to the windows that lead to the exterior of the great hall; they could see the blue glare given off on the secondary walls.

The Great Hall was safe.

But for how much longer?

* * *

Jon's head with full of raw emotion; fear being the predominant one, even as Rhaegal beat his mighty wings to return to the gates of Winterfell. The Dragon would be there in a matter of seconds; but each second away from his ancestral home may as well have been a century, the images racing through his minds threatening to drive him mad.

Images of his bannermen, the people of Winterfell being slaughtered like pigs.

The people that trusted him; walking amongst the dead with glowing blue eyes.

Arya and Sansa, torn to pieces by wights.

His brother Bran; nailed to the Heart tree like a warning.

And somehow worse, Daenerys; struggling in the icy grasp of the Night King.

These emotions flowed through Jon and Into Rheagal like water through a river; the speckles of anger and rage overpowered by the fear created by that single solitary smirk. The first sign of human emotion the Night King had ever shown to him; and it shook him to his core. Both Jon and Daenerys with Rheagal and Drogon could not bring down Viserion and his unearthly rider.

The chances of victory were dwindling with each passing second.

After all, it took mere minutes for things to go downhill at Hardhome; within minutes tens of thousands of Freefolk were slaughtered like pigs and turned to the army of the dead. Jon dreaded thinking of what fresh hell awaited him at the gates of Winterfell; that he would return to the sights of a slaughterhouse; his home turned into an abattoir.

Just as Rhaegal crested; both he and his rider could see that the primary gates of Winterfell had been breached; Wights in their hundred swarming over the main courtyard like ants; tearing the war machines to pieces as a group of three full grown Giants hammered away at the secondary gates.

Suddenly; a jet of blue flames came down from the skies above and drenched the gates in freezing blue. The gates themselves turning to ice and many of the defenders on the walls turned to screaming husks as they fell over the parapets to their deaths.

How in the seven hells had that bastard beat him to the gates? That's when Jon realized that the storm clouds above them would have played to the Night King's advantage, he commanded the storm like a master commands a hound and broken wing or not; in those clouds Viserion was faster than both his living brothers.

Jon was a second away from commanding Rhaegal to rain fire down upon the wights that had invaded the grounds of his family's home, to take some pressure away from the defenders and hopefully draw the Night King away from his family. But before he had even had the chance to give the command; a sound, a very familiar sound pierced the air.

"RHEAGAL! BANK LEFT!" Jon screamed in panic.

The Emerald son of Daenerys banked left as best he could; but all in the span of an instant the sound of whizzing was replaced by two other sounds:

The sound of flesh being sliced.

And the screech of pain that Rhaegal emitted.

Rhaegal went into an absolute panic as an Ice Spear sliced across his right eye; a gout of blood gushing outwards as the spear darted past. Jon grabbed Rhaegal's spikes as best he could to hold onto his dragon, the emotions of panic and fear were mixed with an immense pain. The memories of Viserion's death ringing through both their minds; images of Rhaegal's brother plummeting to his icy death after the Night King let his spear loose.

'_Rhaegal! Stay Calm! Stay Calm!'_ Jon tried to communicate through their shared link; but the screeches of pain filled the air; louder than the mightiest thunderclap.

One of the Walkers on the walls of Winterfell only stared with the rest of its brothers as one of the dragons wailed in pain. The Walkers all stared in unison; silent and simply watching as if they were observing a work of art or a piece of theatre made just for them.

The only discernible thoughts that Jon could make out were _'Pain'_ and _'Danger'_ this much was obvious as Rhaegal began to ascend; the higher up he was the safer he was from those Ice Spears. Jon was doing all he could to hold onto Rhaegal's spikes; at this point he had no clue if Rhaegal had lost his right eye or not, but if Dragons could feel pain like humans could then Jon could attest that gaining a scar across the eye was not something you simply blink away.

And an Ice Spear thrown by a Walker was a much different matter to a Warg possessed Hawk.

But as Rhaegal ascended into the clouds above; Jon was struck by the sudden realization of what the fuck was waiting up there. In his utter panic and fear of what waited below; Rhaegal had forgotten what was waiting in the clouds.

"RHAEGAL!" Jon screamed in panic when the black shape emerged from the clouds; like a shark in waiting the hulking form of Viserion came downwards; his jaws wrapping around Rhaegal's neck. With a loud Squawk, Rheagal's panic intensified as blood began to flow from his new wounds, Viserion's maw now stained red with the blood of his brother.

'_Dany! Dany, we need help!'_ Jon tried to reach Daenerys, but his cries were cut short when he looked up to see the image of his dread; standing on Viserion's back.

Jon couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the Night King stand there; calm and balanced as if Viserion's back was solid ground. The dread began to build more and more as the King of Endless Winter began walking down Viserion's neck as if he were crossing a bridge.

Time moved slowly as the Night King approached; the harsh winds and thrashing of Rhaegal doing nothing to impede his movement as he walked to Jon. The White Wolf still had to cling onto Rhaegal's spikes as hard as he could; if he relinquished his grip for a second there was a chance he would fly off.

No Red priest could bring him back if he was just a smear on the floor.

Within seconds; stood there on Rhaegal's back; glowing blue eyes from the depth of the coldest of the seven hells piercing into Jon's soul; was the object of Jon's hatred, the Night King. As much as Jon despised the icy lord of death; in that moment all the hatred and anger took a backseat to soul sucking fear and dread. The way the Night King glared at him; like he was scum not fit to grace the heel of his boot.

But as always; Jon had the luck of a fucking angel. The angel in question being the silver haired beauty on the back of the Black fire breathing instrument of death known as Drogon. The Dragon erupted from the clouds with a vengeful fury as the largest of the sons of Daenerys came to his brother's rescue.

The Night King simply turned to the right to see the gargantuan black shape that emerged from the clouds; teeth bared, and claws outstretched.

The only reaction the Night King gave was a slight tilt of the head.

Jon saw his chance; this one second he had a moment of clarity. There he was, within arm's reach; Jon had Longclaw sheathed at his side. A few seconds was all he would need to finish this; he couldn't count on a fall killing this monster, this thing that could raise the dead and shatter steel like glass with a touch of his hand.

Jon had to end it.

This was his chance.

Jon took the risk as his hand latched to Longclaw's hilt; with a growl befitting a Direwolf, Jon unsheathed his Valyrian steel blade and aimed for the centre mass of the King of the White Walkers. The Valyrian Steel of Longclaw would end it; it had tasted the icy flesh of two White Walkers whilst wielded by Jon; no, Jaehaerys Targaryen.

With all the fury and fire of a Dragon, Jon thrusted Longclaw at the Night King and…

*Clang*

Jon's eyes shot wide open.

The bastard had caught it.

Stood there with a slight grin on his face; the Night had halted the blade of Longclaw by catching it within his left hand.

The look of horror on Jon's face and the look of what could only be described as amusement on the visage of the Night King, were interrupted as Viserion and Rhaegal were thrown out of their struggle when the hulking mass of Drogon collided with them. The Black Dragon's claws finding Viserion's already damaged wing and his fangs finding his brother's face.

Viserion relinquished his grip on Rhaegal with a screech; the green dragon's neck gushing blood from all the bite wounds riddling it. The struggle sent the Night King over the edge of Rhaegal's neck as the Lord of Winter released his grip on Longclaw and accepted his descent without any sign of mortal worry.

'_GO! I have to do this myself!'_ Daenerys voice filled his mind.

Jon would have argued that Daenerys needed help; but by the way Rhaegal was groaning and panting like a wounded dog; there was no way that the emerald scaled dragon could take much more abuse. If Rhaegal took another bad hit; he wouldn't be in the air for very long.

With a grunt; Jon willed Rhaegal to descend; he had to get the green dragon on the ground to rest and recuperate. Any longer in the air and the damage that Rhaegal had sustained may only be made worse.

Daenerys would have breathed a sigh of relief if not for the screeching husk of her fallen son; flailing as much as it could to escape the iron grip of Drogon. The black Dragon was not a beast like many thought he was; the Valyrian Dragon was smart and emotional, and he loved his brother. All three of the dragons loved each other; from the moment they hatched to the moment they would close their eyes.

Drogon felt a myriad of emotions that flowed through both him and his mother. Both Dany and Drogon shared their sorrow for the loss of their son and brother, they shared anger at the Night King for taking him from them; and they felt the responsibility to make sure he didn't suffer for much longer.

The Mighty black Dragon wrapped his claws around Viserion's already damaged wing and twisted it; the audible snapping and cracking followed by an audible screech from the living corpse. Drogon sank his fangs deeper into Viserion's face; bones cracking and one of the wight dragon's blue eyes popping under pressure before Drogon with all the fury a grieving brother could muster; tore Viserion's face in half.

Blue flames spewed from the damaged maw and opened throat of the felled Viserion; but Daeneyrs and Drogon's job was not over yet.

'_forgive me my child…forgive me'_ Daenerys had to fight back the tears as she was forced to put down her sweet child like some rabid dog.

Drogon snarled as he ripped Viserion's wing off; bones cracking and tendons splitting; black ichor in place of blood as the former son of Daenerys was rent asunder. Drogon's snarls and roars would have sounded like the snarls of a rabid animal to those ignorant of a Dragon's nature.

Those roars of snarls were the only way the Black Dragon could vent the pain as he brought his jaws down on Viserion's neck once again; his fangs tearing and rending flesh and tendons in a sorrowful attempt to end his brother's suffering.

Tears fell free from Daenerys' face as she roared alongside Drogon; their pain and sorrow melding into fury as the descendant of the Black Dread tore out Viserion's throat. Blue flame now poured free from the hole Drogon made; not one blue cinder managing to make its way out of Viserion's mouth.

The sorry state the namesake of Daenerys' brother was in was painful to witness; especially as Daenerys gave that final order.

'_Please Drogon…end it, please end it'_ Dany cried as she buried her face in Drogon's back.

And with all the savagery and fury of his namesake; Drogon's jaws clamped around what was left of the skull of Viserion, and with enough pressure to crush solid steel, Drogon twisted and snapped his brother's neck, a loud and audible snap echoing the air.

Daenerys cried like a child as Viserion's corpse drifted to the floor soundless like feather; the weight of his body would crush the wights beneath him but that brought no comfort. Daenerys' tears fell upon Drogon's back as she wept, for the second time she had lost her dear son. Viserion had been taken from her by the Night King and now she was the one with his blood on her hands.

Daenerys' eyes shot open; no longer filled with the sadness of a grieving mother but filled with the fiery fury of a Targaryen Dragon Queen, no, not even a Dragon Queen. A Dragon.

'_Dracarys!'_ Daenerys growled in the mind of Drogon; the Black Dread sharing his mother's unbridled rage and anger. Targaryen fire was one thing; but this was pure Dragon's fire, as Drogon descended like the incarnation of death, he and his rider's anger becoming one.

Fire and Blood; if Dany couldn't get the second from the army of the dead, then she would give them the first in bulk.

* * *

Jon could hear the laboured and heavy breathing from Rhaegal as the green dragon descended from the air. The steam emitting from Rhaegal's mouth was a clear sign that he was exhausted; and his wounds certainly were not helping. Landing inside of the gates was not an option; Rhaegal needed space and a safe area to recuperate.

Jon made sure that Rhaegal landed away from the fighting; somewhere the wights wouldn't notice him, and a clearing just near a snow hill south of Winterfell was the perfect place.

Rhaegal landed with a thud and snow was flung into the air around him from the impact, luckily the wights were too preoccupied with laying siege to Winterfell to notice the Dragon landing behind the hills.

Jon leapt off Rhaegal; gaining his footing much better than he did in his previous dismounts. Jon inspected the wound around Rhaegal's eye and was glad to find that he had not sustained damage to the eye itself; but the wound itself had sliced through his right brow and left a nasty cut on his eyelid.

That would certainly leave a scar; as would the several bite wounds littering Rhaegal's neck. Jon wasn't an expert on Dragon anatomy; but he could tell that the bleeding wasn't severe enough to lead to Rhaegal's death. A Dragon of Rhaegal's size was sure to have many gallons of blood running through him; the wounds inflicted by Viserion would scar him…but not kill.

'_It's alright boy' It's alright, rest'_ Jon patted Rhaegal as the immense dragon collapsed; steam emitting from his mouth and nostrils as he lay down on the snow.

Rhaegal would have responded if he weren't so drained; instead he simply closed his eyes and tried to rest as best he could. Jon drew Longclaw and ascended the hill; satisfied that Rhaegal would be safe here, any stray wights that came this way wouldn't stand a chance against even a wounded Rhaegal.

Once Jon crested the hill, he scanned the battlefield; he could see Drogon reigning fire upon the hordes of wights; he could see the giants and mammoths breaking through walls and tearing down gates, the very walls of his childhood home reduced to rubble.

Then he saw him.

Standing there; watching it all transpire with a sword of ice strapped to his back.

The Night King.

That bastard had survived, of course he did.

The Gods really weren't smiling on Jon in that regard.

The Night King began to advance; marching with a purpose towards the breech in the walls, the breech was still alight with blue flames and corpses created in the melee that had taken place after the wights began spilling over the walls.

His window of opportunity was closing fast.

Jon gripped Longclaw tightly and reached up to take off his cloak. The heavy furs would simply weigh him down and make him slow; he needed to move and move fast for that matter. Jon needed every single advantage he could get against an enemy like this.

Taking a deep breath; Jon steeled his resolve, he could make it, he could close that distance in time and end this nightmare; he could end the Long Night before it had even begun. He had to do this, he had to end this war before it could claim the lives of those he loved dearest.

His People.

His Friends.

His Uncle; come back from the dead twice.

His Brother, Bran.

His sisters, fearless Arya and cunning Sansa.

And the love of his life; his fiery dragon queen, his other half, the woman that he would gladly give his life for, Daenerys.

Jon let out a low growl as he leapt over the hill and went into a run; keeping himself low as he could to the ground to avoid being seen by any inquisitive wights.

With Longclaw in hand and the snow crunching under his boots; in that moment all that mattered was thrusting his sword deep into the chest of the Night King.

* * *

Wood splintered as the howling, screeching, snarling and roaring got louder; there was more than simple human wights bashing down the gates. That much was certain when a fist the size of a man's torso broke through the doors and tore a chunk of the gate with it.

"STAND FAST!" Brienne yelled as she bared Oathkeeper; Jaime stood at her side with Widow's wail in hand, the twin pieces of Ice reunited in Winterfell after so long.

"Come on you cunts! We don't have all fucking night!" Tormund snarled; adrenaline coursing through his system as flashbacks of Hardhome filled his head.

Benjen walked past lines of trembling men; one black hand grasping Dark Sister whilst the other drew his chain flail. Beric stood beside his fellow dead man and ignited his sword; both deceased warriors sharing an understanding glance before looking at the splintering gates.

"Don't let them flank you; if they get you on your back its over…fight in groups and attack their centre mass…and pray the gods are favouring us" Benjen instructing before igniting his chain flail.

Sandor flinched noticeably as he noticed he was standing right beside the dead man with the flaming sword and the other dead man with a fiery flail. It was not his luck; but as much as he detested fire, he hated the idea of being gutted and brought back as some undead slave much more.

"Lord of Light protect us; watch us in the depths of darkness and death and light the way…" Beric began to pray as more splintered and chunks flew from the gates.

"Your god isn't fucking listening Beric" Sandor growled as he gripped his axe tightly.

"DOVOAGEDYS!" Grey Worm shouted his fellow Unsullied to attention as they locked their shields in place; creating an airtight shield wall.

"MEN! STAND TO!" Lyle shouted as his heaviest infantry men stood to attention behind the Unsullied shield wall; baring their warhammers, maces, mauls, halberds and other blunt weapons made for caving in skulls and breaking bones.

Everyone stood with bared breath.

Northmen.

Free Folk.

Night's Watch.

Unsullied.

Westerlanders.

Crannogmen.

Dothraki.

And all the misfits in between.

With every thud the barrier became weaker and weaker; until the snarls and growls began to die down. For a few blessed seconds; the defenders of Winterfell thought that the wights were relenting. But those hopes were dashed as ice began to crawl up the wooden gates; brown oak and timber turning white.

…

…

Silence but the howling wind and the low growling of Ghost as he stuck right by Gendry's side.

The Gates shattered.

and Hell was unleashed.

**OK, took a little longer than I first expected, and I hope all of you enjoyed this second to last instalment of the Battle of Winterfell. Now admittedly, a lot of stuff in this chapter and the last few follows the same basic skeleton of the Long Night in season 8….However you will like to hear that NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE THE CONCLUSION OF THE BATTLE OF WINTERFELL AND FROM THERE ON….ORIGINAL CONTENT, FUCK SEASON 8 IN ITS ENTIERETY!**

**Next chapter I will be dropping some Bombs! People will fucking die! The Night King will do his thing, secrets will be revealed! Got some CRAZAY SHIT COMING UP EVERYBODY AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT.**

**As always, please leave varied and lengthy reviews; give me things to talk about, let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, your opinions, views and suggestions or even just some good old fashioned D&D hate (its very much welcome here) **

**Love all of you guys, and here is to a productive 2020! MERRY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

**Mizadá vi zdaguno! – Protect the Retreat!**


	17. The Night Begins Part 5

**Sometimes it seems like the universe just plain doesn't want me to get these chapters out fast. Very Recently the Internet around my parts went down, which means I had a lot of reading to catch up on, but enough excuses, NEW CHAPTER IS HERE! AND IT'S A LONG ONE! YAAAAY! Probably the longest one I've ever written.**

**Also, in a little show of irony it seems all that Benioff and Weiss are doing is 'directing' a Leslie Jones Comedy special on Netflix….wow…from the critically acclaimed and revolutionary fantasy series to this….now that is a fall from grace that made me laugh my ass off, those dibshits deserved it! XD **

**Now, as you all now; last chapter I said that this chapter would be the finale of the Battle of Winterfell, so I hope you all enjoy what I got…And from here on out….We go solo baby! No more scenes created by Chimp boy and Neanderthal face (Benioff looks like a fucking caveman and Weiss is a shaved chimp…prove me wrong) so REJOICE as what comes after this is going to be of my own making! **

**There may be a scene or two that seems like a S8 scene at most, but even then, the dialogue and directions will be TOTALLY different (probably because of what happens in this chapter) Now enough of my rambling and ominous warnings!**

**EDIT:….well….last time I updated this story there wasn't a Global Pandemic going on….huh…funny how the world works eh? Still, on the bright side this whole mess has given us nothing but spare time to kill, so what better time to update this story I've been pouring my soul into?**

**Kristofer Hvju and Indira Verma have also seemed to have contracted the Virus; though I have a good feeling they'll pull through our prayers are with them. Mark my words, it will take more than this to kill Kristofer and Indira. Hope they get better soon.**

**I hope you guys are all safe and healthy and are making sure to keep your hands clean. Oh, and please don't panic buy all the toilet roll when you go shopping…the rest of us need that shit too. **

**ON WITH THE CHAPTER!**

**Enjoy!**

**The Night Begins Part 5**

The crunching of snow underfoot was always a comforting sound to Jon; it always meant he was home in the North, with his family and those dear to him. But right now, in this moment; creeping forward while staying close to the ground, the crunching of snow had become as unsettling as the growling of some otherworldly beast.

He had to stay quiet. If he could creep up upon the Night King unnoticed; then he could finish this. He would drive Longclaw through the bastard's back and shatter him like glass; his army would crumble to dust, and his family would be safe.

Dany would be safe.

Jon kept thinking about her; her radiant silver locks, her gleaming violet eyes, her voice as soft as velvet and a smile that could keep him warm on even the coldest nights. Everything he did now; was for her and the future he promised himself they would share together once the dead were defeated.

Those thoughts of what he was fighting for were the only things keeping him moving. If not for those promises of his life to come; Jon would be frozen on the spot in fear, a simple man standing against this icy apparition of death.

Though the sight of the Night King was not the only thing that kept Jon on his toes; the floor around him was littered with corpses, those of Dothraki bloodriders, Unsullied, Northerners both Free Folk and not, Westerland knights and even a few Vale Knights. Though the sheer amount of dispatched Wights gave Jon some semblance of peace '_at least our men went down dragging some of these fuckers with them' _

With every step closer; Jon could hear the battle grow louder and louder, Wights screeching, beasts snarling and roaring, men yelling as they fought and died. This served as motivation for Jon to close that dreaded distance between him and the Night King. As Jon gave up on stealth and rose to his feet; holding Longclaw in his right hand; Jon began to jog, his jog turned to a brisk run, he had to conserve some energy in case he didn't land his first attack.

But as the gap between Jon and his enemy closed; the Night King stopped and tilted his head to the side with a sharp jerk; the sound of ice crackling as he moved. Jon froze with fear as the Night King slowly turned to meet eyes with the Lord of Winterfell.

Jon felt like a deer in headlights, those glowing ethereal blue orbs piercing into his soul like they did every time they met. Before Jon knew it; the Night King had fully turned to face him and was looking at him in the same way one would look at a cockroach or an ant. The Ethereal lord of death slowly lifted one hand as if reaching for the sword on his back.

'_oh…so the fucker wants a fight eh?'_ Jon thought as he held his sword in both hands and readied his stance.

The Night King's hand stopped as it reached waist height…then he began to lift his other hand, a smirk slowly stretched across his features as Jon realized in horror what he was doing.

'_No…NO…NONONONONONO!_' Jon screamed inside as he broke into a full-blown sprint, he had to close the distance as soon as he could, energy conservation be dammed he couldn't allow that fucker to raise the fallen.

Time slowed as Jon closed the distance; corpses eyes opening to reveal bright blue glowing orbs; fallen soldiers slowly rising, sitting up; their posture rigid and their movements like those of newly carved marionettes. Jon tried to blot them out, they didn't matter if Jon did what needed to be done; if his blade was true then he could do it; he could end the battle before the odds turned against them further than they already had.

Jon found himself leaping over corpses that had begun to rise; side stepping shambling corpses and quickly finding the distance between himself and the Night King even further. Jon found the corpse of a heavily armoured Crakehall knight slowly rising between him and the Night King; the corpse was on all fours and was slowly rising to its feet. Jon took this opportunity to jump off the Knight and propel himself into the air towards the Night King.

With Longclaw in both hands; his entire weight and gravity all coming down on the Night King; there was no way he could block the strike with his hand like before on Rhaegal's back.

The Night King, with his hands fully raised with all the speed of a demon; thrust his left palm forward and into Jon's gut before Longclaw made contact. Jon felt like he had been gored by a Bull; the amount of force put into that blow sent Jon flying back 10 feet at least, the rising corpses of turned Night's Watch and Free Folk breaking his fall.

Jon gasped for breath as he swore the Night King had broken one or two of his ribs with that palm thrust. Looking down at his chest Jon's eyes widened as he saw an icy palm print on his gambeson slowly begin to spread across his armour. Jon fuelled by adrenaline and a will to survive quickly drew his knife and cut off the straps of his gambeson; throwing it to the floor as ice slowly engulfed the entire piece.

Jon found himself now surrounded by wights; all staring at him with their glowing blue eyes. Gasping for breath as he used Longclaw as support to slowly pull himself to his feet, Jon once again met eyes with the Night King; slowly lowering his arms and shooting Jon one last smirk before turning around and once again approaching Winterfell.

Jon grimaced through clenched teeth as he looked around him; only a few feet of ground separating him and hundreds of bloodhungry wights. Jon spat on ground before holding up Longclaw in both hands; his hair freed and wild; wearing nought but his grey tunic, leather breeched and his boots, the cold wind chilling his breath.

"Come one then, you fuckers!" Jon snarled like a wolf with his teeth bared; daring any wight to come at him first.

If he was going to die, he would die fighting.

* * *

"What in seven hells was that?" Tyrion asked as he walked around to Theon and Sansa; all eyes fixed on the roof after the impacts were heard.

"What else could it be?" Sansa replied with a whisper.

*THUD**THUD**THUD*

The roof shook as small chunks of debris began to fall with each impact; whatever was above wanted in badly. Sam looked at the number of non-combatants present; Gilly, little Sam, Missandei, the little one huddled beneath her cloak, Tyrion and Sansa, none of them were proven warriors that could hold their own against what was coming.

Hell, he could barely swing a fucking sword and he was one of the few that did have combat experience. If you could call stabbing a Walker in the back and luckily shooting a Thenn in the neck 'Experience'.

Sam quickly helped Gilly to her feet; being very careful of her swelling belly as he did; Little Sam old enough to stand on his own now. Theon knew for a fact that the women and children that couldn't fight could not stay here once the Wights got through; they had to get somewhere more secure.

"Sansa, you have to get the women and children somewhere more secure" Theon readied himself for battle.

"Where do you suggest?" Tyrion asked.

"…If we can make our way through the outer halls we can get to the Hunter's gate, from there it's a straight shot to the Wolfswood" Sansa replied.

"You really want us to escape through a forest?" Tyrion asked.

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sansa asked.

"No, fair enough" the Dwarf replied quickly.

"Then go, now!" Theon urged her.

"You had better be following us" she warned.

"I'll cover the rear with the Ironborn, you just concentrate on getting out" Theon replied.

"Sansa! Let's go" Tyrion urged her along.

"Right behind us! Understood!?" Sansa borderline ordered.

"As you command, Lady Stark" Theon smirked.

As Sansa began coordinating the non-combatants as best as she could; Theon was approached by Tyrion. The Dwarf looked up and down at the Greyjoy boy turned man; he was a far cry from the smug arrogant little prick that offered another round at Ros all those years ago.

"What do you want Tyrion?" Theon asked; his concentration on readying a bow and a quiver of dragonglass arrows.

"You won't be able to hold them back for long with this many men you know" Tyrion said, stating the obvious.

"…I know" Theon replied.

"…Good luck, Lord Greyjoy" Tyrion offered a hand which Theon looked at with a raised brow before taking it.

"…And you, Lord Lannister" Theon replied.

"…you know…you grew to be a better man than your father" Tyrion smiled.

"You too" Theon gave one last smile before the sounds of thudding and muffed screeching began to rattle above them once again.

"Go…Now" Theon ordered as he readied an arrow.

Tyrion quickly made his way towards the retreating women and children; Sansa and Samwell doing their best to keep a calm head and keep the masses from panicking. Thanks to Sansa with Sam and Tyrion's help, the non-combatants were successfully led out of the main halls and towards a more secure position. This left Theon and the Ironborn alone; nothing but a gradually thinning ceiling between them and the dead.

"Alright lads! Let's show these bastards how Iron islanders fight!" Theon growled with all the resolve of the man he pretended to be when he last held this castle.

The ceiling became weaker and weaker with every impact; until a tile fell and shattered on the floor around them. Theon drew back his arrow as did the other 10 Ironborn marksmen out of the 30 Ironborn that came with him.

The Ironborn men here knew that this enemy would not relent; they wouldn't accept surrender or show the slightest ounce of mercy. Trying to bargain or betray their allies to survive would never work with an enemy like this; you would have a better time trying to reason with a Tiger that was gnawing on your throat.

In this moment, it was fight or die.

The ceiling opened, and in a span of a few short seconds, blood began to spill, screams and screeches filled the air and the once safe and secure hall had turned into an abattoir.

* * *

Jon swung at the first Wight to creep toward him; with a single swing he decapitated the Dothraki wight that got too close. The next wight that came within arm's length was pierced through the chest; the next was sliced down the torso. The wights moved slowly; not at all like the wights that swarmed the walls of Winterfell, but then again, these things weren't animals or beasts or even men anymore.

They were puppets; puppets that followed the strings of the Night King.

Jon wondered how long it would take until they finally wore him down and ripped him to pieces.

However, within the span of a few seconds; the landscape around Jon went from icy wasteland of death to a field of fire and screeching husks turned to ash. Turning around and looking up; he saw his saviour, the mane of gleaming silver locks, her white fur dress and silver breastplate, and of course the gargantuan black dragon she rode upon.

Drogon's flames engulfed the Wights surrounding Jon; flesh and bone immolated and turned to ash and smoke. Jon could feel the heat surging around him and had to raise an arm to block some of the blinding light. Before long, the ground surrounding Jon had gone from white snow stained red, to blackened ground littered with fresh embers and ash.

Funny…Jon thought Dragon flames would feel much hotter than this.

Drogon hovered in stop; his wing beats fanning out the leftover flames and allowing Jon to gain his bearings again. The Lord of Winterfell couldn't help but breath a gasp of relief and allow a smile to grace his face. But Jon remembered what had put him in this position to begin with, his chase of the cause of all this death and destruction.

"RHEAGAL?" she called to Jon with worry in her eyes.

"HE'S ALRIGHT! I HAVE TO GO DANY!" Jon yelled back.

"GO! I CAN HANDLE THEM!" Daenerys yelled. She understood that now wasn't the time for teary hugs and a thank you, she had a job to do and so did Jon.

Jon nodded to Daenerys before turning to the opening she had made for him and running with everything he had; Longclaw in hand and cold air in his lungs. As Jon disappeared into the snowy winds towards Winterfell; Daenerys then put her mind back to the task she was descending in order to take care of.

It was a miracle that Daenerys had spotted Jon when she descended; she didn't know he was such peril until she had begun scanning the grounds surrounding the castle. She had something to take care of; the Mother of Dragons needed to see this through to its bitter and heart-breaking end.

She had to make sure Viserion was dead.

* * *

"DON'T LET THEM FLANK YOU!" Brienne yelled as she cleaved a wight down the middle.

The battle within the walls had turned into a meat grinder; the snow was stained bright red and the sounds of screeches, yells and battle cries filled the air. Numbers blended into white noise as men and women fought for their lives against the massed hordes of the undead, both human and beasts brought back to fight as thralls of the Night King.

The Unsullied shield wall offered defence against the sheer numbers of the wights, but all semblance of military strategy had been dissolved as all thoughts turned to a mad dash at survival.

Everyone with a blade or a weapon of any kind had to fight with everything they had; pure adrenaline streaming through their veins more than their own blood at this point. Some Free Folk and Northerners had broken their dragonglass weapons and were using the shattered shards or even stones from the floor in their defence.

This was no longer a war.

This was a slaughter.

Wight and human alike were falling like leaves from an old tree.

Benjen Stark, Brienne of Tarth, Jorah Mormont, Ser Jamie Lannister, Lyle Crakehall, Sandor Clegane, Beric Dondarion, Tormund Giantsbane, Bronn of the Blackwater, Gendry Waters, Grey Worm, Qhono of the Dothraki Khalasar, the Unsullied, the united houses of the North, the Freefolk, the Knights of the Vale, the Dothraki, the Knights of Crakehall and the Crannogmen of House Reed.

All the united forces of the Living, all the walls they had built between each other had faded away, all differences of culture, skin colour, nation or allegiance had been dissolved along with any sense of military strategy. As these people from all corners of the world had become alike in that one aspect; their need to fight to survive.

The Valyrian steel of Dark Sister shone as it split an undead wolf's head in half; brain and splintered bone spilling onto the snow as the creature fell apart like dry leaves, no longer held together by the magic that kept it together.

Benjen was skilled and experiences enough at fighting the thralls of the White Walkers that he could hold his ground against them.

But even that experience didn't prepare him for what was coming.

"**SCREEEEEEEE!"**

The sound that pierced the air was like the sound of rusted steel bending and scraping against itself. Like a cold wind screeching and howling before a storm hit. This was a sound that even Benjen dreaded.

It may as well have been a war horn brought from the depths of the seven hells.

These wights were nothing more than fodder; bodies to be thrown at the enemy to wear them down.

Those screeches signalled the coming of the reserves.

A Vale Knight had his head ripped off by a massive beak.

An Unsullied was decapitated by the swipe of a clawed paw.

A Northern soldier was lifted like he was nothing and torn in half like a child's plaything.

Benjen's eyes shot wide open as he recoiled along with almost every other member of the living forces as the front line of wights was laced with a menagerie brought forth from the pits of the seven hells. Fur, Insectoid carapaces, Feathers, bone and exposed flesh all becoming visible amongst the lines of the Dead.

Undead beasts, Terrorbirds and Giants.

The dead didn't leave any time for the living to steel themselves as they promptly began to tear into the ranks of the living, wights mingled in between the blood and screams as claws, talons and fangs cleaved through steel, furs and leather.

A Northern Soldier drove his dragonglass sword at one of the Giants; his blood running cold when the Giant raised its foot and crushed the man like an insect under its massive trunk-like feet. The Freefolk and Crannogmen archers concentrating all their fire on the giants, aiming at any exposed flesh they could sink their dragonglass tipped arrows into.

Benjen growled like a Wolf as he clashed Dark Sister against an undead Bear. The blade slicing through rotten flesh and bone.

Jorah stopped a Terrorbird dead in its track as Heartsbane was plunged into its mouth.

Brienne let out a battle cry as Oathkeeper clashed against the fanged maw of an Ice Spider.

Sandor Clegane however took it a step further as he swung his Dragonglass battle axe into an undead Direwolf. The axe finding purchase at a gap in the creature's skull, any hints of brain or grey matter spilling onto the floor in a gruesome mess. The battle continued as blade and spear carved through flesh, ice and rotten hide all. One could be forgiven for covering their ears whilst witnessing the battle as the sound of silence was as foreign as snow not drenched in blood.

"Stay back you fucking twat!" Bronn cursed as he pulled Jamie through the ranks towards the back.

"What are you doing!? We have to fight!" Jaime cursed.

"It's a fucking Massacre you Lannister cunt! We can't beat those fucking things!" Bronn cursed in a blind panic; his survival instincts kicking in. Jaime forcefully broke away from Bronn and gave him a look that couldn't be better described as shame.

"I'm not abandoning this fight! I'm many things Bronn, an Oathbreaker, man without honour, a man without a house…But I'm not a fucking coward, run if you want, just know you'll die alone without pride" Jaime practically spat before turning with Widow's Wail in hand and joining the charge.

Bronn however kept pushing backward through the ranks.

'…_Fucking Stupid Lannister cunt, he can get himself killed for all I care. I didn't come here to die for some fucking Northern Twats, all I wanted was my fucking castle and highborn wife…Fucking dead cunts ruining everything! Just need to find a horse, then I can ride for the coast, find a boat, go to essos! That's a plan! Away from all this fucking death! I don't give a shit about that sisterfucking twat or his little shit brother! I did it for the fucking gold!'_ Bronn thought as he pushed through the ranks, seeing all the terrified faces of the men heading into battle.

All these men.

Westerlanders, Northerners, Wildlings, Valemen, Unsullied, Crannogmen and Dothraki, some old, some young, many in between. Many of them dam near shitting themselves as they knew they charged headfirst into death.

And here Bronn was, fleeing through the ranks towards the back, like a coward.

Bronn stopped; his grip on his Dragonglass sword almost airtight.

"….FUCK!" Bronn grunted in a fury as he gripped his Dragonglass sword.

Beric fell to the snow as the ringing in his ears took over everything else, the sight of blood was as common as anything else now. The sight of men being savaged and torn to pieces, of the stuff of nightmares as Ice Spiders, undead Direwolves, Terrorbirds, Ice Bears and Shadowcats turned the battle into a slaughter.

All of Thoros' tales of the Long Night, of the end times that came with the icy messengers of death, they were all as clear as day and one would have to be a gibbering fool or a madman to deny them. Beric had died before many times, but he knew that if he fell here that he would never get back up again.

He was so worn down, so used up, so broken and battered that even the magic of the Night King wouldn't bring his worthless husk of a corpse back.

But then he saw it, something that sent a bolt of proverbial lightning into him as his vision focused and his own heartbeat and breathing were the only sounds reverberating through his ears. The wights, both human and beast all faded into blurs as he saw a glimmer of silver.

The feeling was as if someone had let the air back into his lungs after so long. He could see, he could feel something pulling him away.

One of the many gaps in the walls of Winterfell was open and unobscured; as wights poured through the main gate, this gap was free.

Beric could feel something deep within calling to him. His reason…it was here...at the end of all things:

He had found his destiny, and with determination and pure adrenaline coursing through his veins he picked himself up from the snow, his pain numbed, and vision cleared as he carried himself towards it.

His meaning was revealed, and his answer was right in front of him.

* * *

"Bran! Bran! Wake up you fucking shit!" Meera yelled as she shook the Greenseer from side to side; the way he was starting to shake was worrying Meera; visions of her brother's attacks lingering in her mind.

Bran's eyes were pure glazed over white. He had been like this for quite some time and Meera was fine with letting him do his thing; but when the blue flames of the undead dragon began reigning down from the skies, Meera had started to worry.

They needed the Three Eyed Raven now; things were spiralling out of control.

The crunching of snow sent the Unsullied and Crannogmen archers into full alert; but once the small form of Arya Stark came into view; they relaxed and lowered their weapons.

"Lady Arya" Howland nodded.

"Is Bran alright?" She asked.

"He hasn't been like this since the battle began, I'm getting worried" Meera explained as Arya came up beside Bran and looked into the whites of his rolled back eyes.

"What is he doing?" Arya asked.

"Bran is a Warg as well as the Three Eyed Raven…he has abilities that we can't begin to understand" Howland explained.

"Huh…that sounds useful" Arya shrugged; trying her best to ease the tension and ease her own nerves at seeing her brother like this.

"How is the battle at the gates faring, My Lady?" Howland asked.

"Not good…but for some reason my Uncle said I was needed here" Arya replied.

"Your Uncle is right, child" came a voice like velvet, a very familiar voice.

"You!" Arya growled as she turned to meet eyes with the Red Woman herself; her two Fiery Hand guards stood at her sides. As if sensing the killer intent in the air; the Fiery Hand guards reached for their swords; only Melisandre gestured for them to stand down once again.

Melisandre then whispered a few words in a foreign tongue to the two guards; without a word they both nodded and turned. Almost in synch they marched back to the battlefield; their longswords drawn and purpose in their step.

"Where did you send them?" Arya asked.

"To fulfil another purpose" Melisandre replied.

"You sure you don't need them here?" Arya asked; still battling with the urge to slit her throat right now.

"My death won't come at your hands girl…I know that and so do you" Melisandre smiled.

Arya was taken aback by that response, for so long she was used to seeing people hide fear whether it be when they were seconds away from having their lives ended or when they were faced with their own mortality in general. But here Melisandre was, perfectly comfortable at the very end of days with a Stark ready to end her.

"Your Brother requires my services before the end…and he requires you by his side for what is to come" Melisandre stepped closer to Arya.

"My Uncle I can understand…but why would I listen to a fucking word out of your mouth?" Arya glared at Melisandre; the knowledge of what she would have done to Gendry still fresh in her mind.

"Because though your Brother, and the future of you pack depend upon what comes next" Melisandre replied once again.

Arya raised a brow in confusion; when had everyone suddenly started speaking in riddles as if she had any clue as to what was going on anymore? Her Uncle Benjen, the Red Woman, Bran, even Lord Howland had all began speaking as if they were privy to something no one else knew.

All she wanted to know was what to do when the time came.

"And what is that?" Arya asked.

"…a Revelation"

* * *

Snow was uplifted from the ground by the beat of Drogon's mighty wings; the husk of his fallen brother coming into view as Daenerys circled. The Mother of Dragon's was hard pressed not to feel a pang of sorrow fill her chest when she laid eyes on the broken corpse of what used to be Viserion; he was in a sorry state. Drogon's whine of sorrow was the best encapsulation of how Daenerys was feeling at seeing her son's twisted and mangled corpse. He may have been brought down by the Night King, but she and Drogon were the ones that put him down like a rabid dog.

His left wing torn to shreds; his right wing broken like a twig.

His throat torn wide open, exposing bone.

The gaping wound in his chest cavity, that was once a small precise wound left by the Night King's lance. The wound torn open by the combined assault of Drogon and Rhaegal.

His once beautiful gleaming scales now dull and rotten.

His eyes…once full of fire and life; eyes that Dany used to love looking into, now blue and glowing.

Wait.

Blue and glowing?

Daenerys and Drogon barely had time to react as Viserion lunged forward; his broken maw full of jagged, broken and out of place fangs targeting his brother's hide. Drogon with a single powerful beat of his wings managed to get out of the way of the jaws of his deceased brother.

The mournful whine of Drogon was instantly replaced with the more familiar fury as he let loose a jet of flame; roasting the already broken-down husk that was Viserion. There was a time that Viserion would have been very hard to burn, but in the sorry state he was in the fire burned better than it would if he were alive. Viserion however seemed unfazed by the fire and continued to drag himself by his one wing claw; trying to close the distance so he could lunge at his mother and brother once again.

Dany willed Drogon to take off, but as the black dread reborn tried to flap his wings.

_***RREEEEAAAAAAAH!***_ Drogon squawked in surprise as he felt something strong tug on his tail.

Turning her head; Dany's eyes widened in absolute shock. 5 Giants, all had their arms wrapped around Drogon's tail and were tugging him down with all their might. Drogon snarled and landed against Dany's wishes and with a mighty roar he lashed his tail out of the Giants' grip.

"DRACARYS!" Dany ordered; Drogon having no issues with the command opened his mouth and let loose a massive jet of flame; the fire burning through the rotten and decrepit flesh of the undead giants; their hair and fur attire acting as kindling as they were reduced to piles of ash and charred bone.

But as soon as the giants were reduced to embers; hundreds of wights were already crawling up Drogon's legs and his tail. His turning his attention to the giants, Drogon had left himself open to attack; as the dull and rusted blades of Long dead freefolk and the still fresh dragonglass weapons of recently fallen defenders pierced Drogon's scales, he let out a screech of shock.

'_Fly my son! Fly!'_ Dany urged Drogon to take to the skies and shake the attacking corpses free from his hide.

Wights fell to their demise as Drogon began flapping his wings and shaking his head and tail to send his attackers flying. Many Wights fell to the floor; the sheer impact shattering their bones on impact as they were thrown around like ragdolls.

Daenerys began to panic more as snarling and screeching corpses scaled her son's hide with their knives bared; with one particularly strong flap of his wings Dany felt her grip loosen. It took a split second of panic, weakness and the pain her son was in that seemed to temporarily numb their bond. Dany felt herself impact upon the soft, snow-covered floor; the breath left her lips in a gasp of fear and dread as she saw Drogon ascend into the sky in a panic of his own. Wights fell from Drogon's hide as he shook and rolled around in the air; Wights falling from his hide like drops of water. Her largest son disappeared into the clouds above, the storm drowning out the sounds of his snarls and screeches.

That left Daenerys sat there in the snow; her eyes darting around as she realized that she was now caught in the Killzone. Wights were all around her, by some miracle none of them had noticed her; her bright silver hair and white fur dress working as a camouflage of sorts against the winter snow.

Daenerys slowly began backing up; but as she made the slightest bit of movement, a shambling Free Folk wight took notice and let out a shrill shriek before darting towards her. The only weapon Daenerys had on her person was the Dragonglass dagger that Jon had given her. As the screeching wight lunged for her; she drove it through its eye socket; the body going limp before she pushed it from her form.

Daenerys instantly regretted not pulling the dagger back out as she realized that the screech the Wight had let out had attracted more of the shambling husks. The strength had gone from the Dragon queen's legs as she felt helpless; her rapid heartbeat filling her ears like the bells of hell, she wasn't a warrior, she couldn't fend off these things by herself.

She was going to die.

A Wight: formerly of the Night's Watch judging by its black leathers and fur cloak screeched as it shambled towards Daenerys, a rusted broadsword in its hands bared for the kill. Suddenly the Wight's head went flying as a sword of flame lopped it clean off.

"Your grace!" her saviour exclaimed as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

Beric Dondarion, former lord of the Stormlands, resurrected by the Lord of Light after his deaths at the hands of the Clegane brothers and the Lannister army. In this dark moment, Daenerys found herself saved by the most unlikely of allies.

"What…how?" Dany exclaimed in shock.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways your grace, now come!" he shouted; his eyes darting back and forth looking for ways back within the walls.

Beric was flying on the edge of his seat, making things up as he went along. The walls were overrun and everything within Winterfell had fallen into a free for all, there was no way of telling if they were holding their ground or not. But in that one moment of chaos he saw a sight that sent a bolt of proverbial lightning through his barely beating heart.

When Beric saw that shine of silver fall from the back of the black dragon; he felt a chill up his spine he hadn't felt since he came back that first time. Beric had been without any real purpose for a long time, constantly questioning his place in the world since his first death and subsequent rebirth.

He felt it deep in his breast that this…this was a sign from the Lord. For all Thoros' sermons about the Lord of Light and his design, this was the first time it felt like he was working as the hand of the Lord.

Daenerys was just happy to still be drawing breath as Beric held her behind him with his sword held out in front. The flaming sword cut down wights left and right; but the Lightning Lord had seen better days; his armour was rent and bloody, and his swings were getting weaker with every attack.

But Beric did not relent; the adrenaline coursing through him kept him from passing out; his lungs had never worked so hard and his heart had never beat so hard, even when he was a young man that hadn't tasted the frosty bite of death yet he hadn't felt this alive.

The wights however, unfazed by this kept on their assault; one Wight lacking one arm swung at Beric only to have its remaining arm struck from its body. The Wight however fell to the floor and latched its teeth around Beric's left leg.

"GGGH!" Beric grit his teeth in pain; blood flowing into the jaws of the wight.

Daenerys couldn't bring herself to let this man defend her by himself, and she had come too far to die like some damsel in distress. Grabbing a Dragonglass sword from the corpse of a dead Northerner; Daenerys drove the tip of the blade into the wight latched on Beric's leg.

Daenerys was not some weak-willed lady, destined to knit and pray her days away, she was the blood of the dragon. And if she were to die, she was going to die the way she had lived.

Full of fire and defiance.

* * *

Davos hacked away at a wight; his swordsmanship as basic as it came. Even when he had all his fingers he was as talented as a drunken brawler at best, but skill in circumstances such as this were of no consequence. Talented ripostes and footwork went out of the window when fighting for survival against walking corpses.

"FUCK!" Davos lost his balance and fell to the floor.

The smuggler resigned himself to his fate when he saw a Wight dressed in Unsullied armour loom over him with a spear at the ready.

'_Marya I'm sorry luv…I won't be coming home. I tried my best'_ Davos' last thoughts being of his dear Marya and his boys back in the Stormlands.

But just when Davos thought he was going to meet his end; a longsword cut off its arm before a Dragonglass axe was driven into its head.

The wight fell permanently dead. Davos looked up to see his saviour; but whilst he expected a Northern soldier or one of Daenerys' men, he saw the red armoured forms of Melisandre's gaurds; their blank amber eyes, longswords in one hand and Dragonglass hand axes in the other.

"What the fuck?" Davos gasped as the Gaurds of the Fiery hand sheathed their hand axes and ran their hands over their longswords; the steel engulfing in flame as they stood in front of Davos; cutting down wights like grass as they approached.

The battle continued in the gates of Winterfell; the forces of the living battling the forces of the White Walkers and their undead thralls.

All seemed dire.

Sandor Clegane, Brienne of Tarth, Benjen Stark, Jorah Mormont and Lyle Crakehall were leading the men as best as they could whilst making sure to not lose sight of the battle itself. The battle lines had been shattered and groups of men only survived by fighting in tightly knit groups, fighting back to back to prevent the dead from flanking them.

Lord Glover drove his longsword into the gut of a Wight, pushing it off with his foot when done. His men were panicked and in the same disorganised ramble as the other soldiers. The thought that these things were just the stuff of fairy tale and make believe had been driven clearly from Glover's mind.

"Stay together men!" Glover shouted; trying to keep his own bannermen together as one unit.

The Glover men however seemed to blend into the ranks of Free folk, Dothraki, Unsullied and Westerlanders. The destruction of the gates had also destroyed anything segregating the forces into their little pockets. Of course, some men still carried the strength of their groups, Unsullied banded into small groups here and there to set up shield walls and phalanx formations, Screamers still flanked each other, and Free Folk still banded in small groups.

The ranks were so mingled that he even saw the Young Karstark Lady fighting side by side with what looked to be a Young Thenn boy in full warpaint. The young Baratheon Bastard with Snow's Direwolf tackling any wights that got to close, the Hound fighting beside the Strongboar and even a few of his own troops fighting beside Dothraki screamers as if they were brothers in arms.

This sight would have disgusted Glover if he weren't so racked with adrenaline and a need to preserve his own survival.

"I said stay together!" Glover shouted; mere seconds afterwards noticing that the ground around him had darkened and all the living around him recoiling and rushing away from him.

Glover turned and looked up to see the thing they were fleeing.

A Giant, 20 feet tall and covered in armour made from bone and wood; half of its face missing to reveal it's pronounced skull.

Glover barely had time to react as the Giant scooped him up from the ground; its huge fingers clasping around his arms, keeping him from attempting to fight back. Glover began to scream as he felt his muscles contract and bones beginning to fracture.

"AAAAGH!" blood flowed from Glover's mouth as he felt his ribs break and rip into his lungs from the inside.

Crannogmen archers began unloading arrows at the Giant; the undead creature snarling as it blocked the volley with his heavily armoured left arm. Glover could feel his blood vessels burst and his arms snap like dry twigs.

The last thing that Glover was the Giant's closed fist coming down like a hammer on him; everything above his med-section was turned to red paste as Lord Robbett Glover was dropped as a headless corpse onto the floor.

The Giant snarled loudly as the Crannogmen continued firing on it. The Giant raising both arms as shields as it could not afford an arrow sinking into its eye socket.

"RAGH!" Tormund drove his dragonglass coated cleaver into the sternum of a wight, pinning it to the floor as it ceased its thrashing. The Redheaded wildling looked up to see the snarling form of the Giant as it roared and brought its foot down on an Ice-river clansman, turning him into a red smear in the snow.

Tormund looked around; his eyes locking on a nearby stone staircase that led up to the ramparts above. The fighting was everywhere; even on the ramparts there were men fighting for their lives; Northerners mostly by the looks of them, a few Night's Watchmen and men of House Crakehall. The Wildling let out a bloodthirsty growl as he made a mad dash for the stairway, cutting down a wight or two before making it to the stairs. The stone steps themselves were slick with blood and viscera, Tormund made sure to not slip and break something.

Once to the top, Tormund had to cut down another Free folk wight; ram a Skeleton's skull into the stone wall and push a Northman Wight from the wall. Once Tormund found the right area of the wall, he held his cleaver in a reverse grip before grabbing a Dragonglass sword from the corpse of a dead Northman and held it in a reverse grip.

"Come on you Big Twat!" Tormund growled in wait.

The Giant snarled as a Fire arrow skimmed across its face, grazing its rotten flesh and leaving a large cut. The Giant stumbled back when an Unsullied threw his spear, the weapon finding its mark in the Giant's hand.

"_**RAAAAAGH!"**_ the Giant roared loudly as it stumbled back as few steps.

Tormund took a deep breath and leapt from the wall; the dragonglass sword sinking into the Giant's hide as he used it like an anchor. The Dragonglass was good for killing smaller wights and undead beasts, but a Giant was a different matter.

It would take a direct hit to a vital area, and Tormund knew that Giants had thick hides; barrel chests with plenty of muscle to protect their vital organs. Bringing down a Giant was not something that could be done with ease, even a live wounded giant would take down many men before it was finally felled.

But luckily, Tormund had experience in this area. He wasn't named Tormund Giantsbane for nothing.

Crannogmen continued firing on the Giant; arrows sinking into its chest and legs; not one managing to sink deep enough to hit anything vital. But this distraction gave Tormund a chance as he used his cleaver and longsword in tandem to crawl up the Giant's back.

Once at the base of the Giant's neck, Tormund raised his cleaver and sank it deep into the base of the giant's skull. The dragonglass cleaver finding what was left of the giant's brain and severing the old magic that kept it standing.

The Giant let out one last snarl that devolved into a high pitch screech before its jaw fell off; the rest of its body following after wards; flesh melting, bones rattling and snapping under the weight and the once mighty undead giant collapsing to the floor in a pile of remains.

Tormund fell to the floor with a thud, the giant's thick hide and flesh cushioning his fall as he let out a long and manic laugh.

"Sir! Are you alright?" a few Stark Bannermen ran to Tormund, one offering his hand.

"The fuck are you standing around for!? There's a fucking fight on!" Tormund growled as he pulled himself to his feet and pulled his cleaver from the skull of the giant.

"DON'T LET THEM FLANK YOU!" Brienne yelled as she pushed the Ice Spider, driving Oathkeeper into its hideous maw.

"GIVE THEM NO QUARTER!" Jorah yelled as he struggled; Heartsbane grinding against a rusted longsword belonging to a Night's Watch wight.

But things somehow got worse as whatever hope that may have been left was promptly cut down.

There; walking with a mighty stride full of purpose and a glare that could make boiling lava freeze in an instant; was the leader of the White Walkers, the Night King. Strolling through the battlefield like he was on a leisurely walk.

"KILL HIM! KILL THE FUCKER!" Tormund yelled as he struggled against a Wight.

A group of Dothraki Screamers; thrilled at the chance of killing their Khaleesi's enemy and being immortalized in glory borderline sprinted at the Night King; their Arahks raised to deliver the killing blow.

The blank expression on the Night King's face never changed as he backhanded one Dothraki in the face so hard that his jaw was torn off. Another Dothraki was grabbed around the throat and had his neck snapped like a brittle twig. The Night King didn't even motion for assistance as two Undead Direwolves ran past his flanks and latched their jaws around the throats of the attacking Dothraki.

Qhono was the first attacker to not be immediately swat away like a fly; his arahk swipe causing the Night King to step to the side and acknowledge the Bloodrider. Qhono growled and swung his Arakh like a man possessed, but the Night King side stepped and evaded every single swipe like he could read Qhono's mind.

The Night King finally took offensive action as he blocked the Dothraki's Arahk with one arm, the dragonglass blade failing to pierce the black armour on the Night King's forearms, while the other hand plunged into the Bloodrider's chest. Qhono coughed up what looked like a lungful of blood before the Night King tore the Dothraki's still beating heart out. The blood that ran down the Night King's hand froze before the organ was shattered like glass in his grip.

Qhono couldn't even utter a word before the Night King threw him to the floor like he wasn't fit to stain his boots.

Time stood still for many of the living as many of their friends and allies were slaughtered like dogs. Those that managed to make it to the Night King without being torn to shreds by Wights were about as fortunate as Qhono, whose blood was staining the snow.

An Unsullied spearman thrust his spear at the Night King, only for the spear to be caught, snapped and then rammed back into the face of its previous owner.

A Crakehall infantryman tried to shoulder tackle the Night King in order to knock him down. But the Night King barely budged before grabbing both sides of the man's helmet and twisting his neck all the way around with a sickening crunch.

A Northman tried his luck with a swing of his dragonglass sword; but the Night King caught it with his bare hand and brought a foot down on the man's leg, snapping it like a twig. The Northerner barely had time to react before the Night King grabbed his head and promptly tore it off and tossed it over his shoulder.

All the while the same eerie expression graced the face of the Night King as he marched forwards. Almost as if by magic; two White Walkers were walking by his sides, both holding Ice swords, then another two holding spears of ice. Everyone was so focused on the arrival of the Night King that no one had noticed the other Walkers joining him, covering his flanks like personal bodyguards.

Not that he seemed to be needing them.

Like an Unholy royal precession, the Night King passed the ongoing battle and slaughter as if it were a choir welcoming him home.

"AAAGH!" Brienne yelled as she held Oathkeeper aloft, her eyes dead set on the Night King.

Before Valyrian steel had a chance to connect, an Ice Sword blocked the blade and shoved the warrior woman backwards. One of the Night King's Walkers was now fully facing her with a murderous glare on its face.

The Night King had also stopped in his stride as he glared not at Brienne but at the blade she was holding. Oathkeeper, forged from half the steel of Ice, the ancestral blade of House Stark, a normal person without the correct knowledge wouldn't have known that from a glance. But a Greenseer knew very well the origins of the blade.

As if supressing something deep down, the Night King's eye twitched before pointing at Brienne, a silent command before walking away.

'_Kill'_

The White Walker was happy to obey that command as it stalked towards the Daughter of Tarth with its ice sword gripped tightly.

It wasn't often that Brienne found herself facing an Opponent both taller and better built than her, but then again this was a very special circumstance. The Walker was built like a Tank at 7 feet, its scowl only highlighted by its glowing blue eyes and aura of death.

The constant fighting that Brienne had been taking part in since the night had started had taken its toll, she was already short of breath and bloodied from the Wights.

The Walker however was fresh and ready to kill, its glowing blue eyes fixed on its quarry.

Brienne found her breath speeding up involuntarily as the Walker lunged like a hungry beast. Oathkeeper met with the Ice Sword in a loud clanging symphony of vibrations as the Ice Blade failed to shatter the Valyrian Steel. The Walker however didn't find itself surprised as it continued its onslaught; Brienne barely finding the strength to continue blocking the Walker's strikes.

The Walker double handed the sword and brought it downwards; frost flying from the blade as it met Oathkeeper. Brienne had both hands on the hilt of Oathkeeper as the Walker's strike was blocked, but the smirk that appeared on the Walker's face spelled disaster as it raised its foot and delivered a devastating kick to Brienne's midsection.

"UGH!" Brienne spluttered as the kick sent her flying into a nearby wall. Her armour had taken the brunt of the impact but even then, she could feel as if something had broken within; a rib or two had been broken by a Kick that would have shattered the sternum of a lesser opponent.

The Walker stalked forward, blade in hand and bloody snow squelching underfoot.

Brienne's vision was blurred as her breathing became pained and shallow, looking up she could only make out the flowing white hair and glowing blue eyes of her attacker as he raised his sword to deliver the killing blow.

Brienne could only close her eyes as she relinquished herself to her fate.

'_I'm…I'm sorry Jaime, I tried to be worthy…I tried…' _

But the resounding clang that rang through the air caused Brienne to open her eyes in shock. Standing there with his teeth grit and his prosthetic clung to his chest was Jaime Lannister; Widow's wail connected with the Walker's ice blade.

The Walker didn't seem to be adding any pressure; only tilting its head as if intrigued by this crippled man standing against it with defiance in his eyes. The Walker seemed to smirk in amusement as Jaime forced the Walker's blade away from him.

'_What in seven hells am I doing?'_ Jaime asked himself. Back when he had both hands, he would have stood a chance against a creature such as this. But with only one hand and an already exhausted wheeze in his breath he didn't see himself lasting more than a few minutes.

But fuck it if he wasn't going to spend those last few minutes with pride. Jaime held out Widow's wail in front of him; his breath visible in the extreme cold as he gasped for breath. The Walker seemed to be amused by this as it stepped forward.

The Walker one handed its sword and swiped it at Jaime, Widow's Wail clanging as Jaime went stumbling along with it rather than relinquish his grip. He had to keep a firm grasp on his sword, if he loosened his grip for even an instant then it would go flying into the snow and leave him defenceless.

The Walker was playing with him like a Cat with a Mouse.

Every swing of the ice blade was an insult or some sick attempt at humour as the White Walker seemed content with making a mockery of the former greatest swordsman in the seven Kingdoms. Jaime lunged with a grunt only for the White Walker to roughly shove him to the floor; snow kicking up around him as Jaime lost grip of Widow's Wail, the Valyrian Steel blade clanging on the floor as it was now out of Jaime's reach.

The Walker's gaze followed the blade before returning to Jaime, simply staring and giving the faintest smirk imaginable.

Just when all hope seemed lost and the gods had abandoned him; it was this moment that the nearby soldiers noticed the presence of the Walker and ran to engage it.

A Northern soldier ran to engage the walker; his dragonglass sword connecting with the ice blade twice before the Walker roughly punched him in the gut and promptly lopped his head off.

A Vale Knight ran up with his longsword, lasting only a few moments longer than the Northerner before the Walker cut off his sword hand and wrapped a hand around his throat, his plate armour freezing before the Walker crushed his windpipe.

A Dothraki and a Wildling ran at the Walker forcing it to concentrate on two opponents at once.

Jaime used this momentary distraction to crawl towards Brienne, who was clutching her chest in agony as blood dripped from her lips. The Lannister's eyes were full of concern as he didn't know if the Walker had delivered a fatal blow before he had intervened.

"Are you alright?" Jaime asked with desperation as he began checking Brienne.

"I'm fine…It just winded me" Brienne replied, her eyes squeezed shut in pain.

A Scream pulled Jaime out of his concern as he turned back to the Walker; the giant creature had cut off one of the Dothraki's legs and had its hand wrapped around the face of the Wildling, the man's face freezing in its grip. The ice blade pierced through the wildling's gut, intestines spilling all over the floor when the Walker tore its hand from the man's face, taking most of it with him.

The Dothraki didn't have a chance to defend himself when the Walker drove its ice sword downward into his chest.

The Walker turned its gaze back to Jaime; flourishing its ice blade, blood splashing onto the snow as it stalked down Brienne and Jaime like a Lion would a deer. Very ironic given the circumstances that the Great Lion of Lannister was the one being hunted.

"Brienne can you stand?" Jaime asked, eyes fixed on the Walker.

"I can bloody well try" Brienne grunted as she used Oathkeeper as a crutch. Jamie grabbed a discarded Dragonglass sword from the dead Northman and held it up. The two stood; gasping for air and holding their swords out in offensive stances.

The Walker wasn't amused as it swung at Jaime; the ice blade knocking the already tired Lannister onto the floor as he failed to find the strength to keep his balance. Brienne used this opportunity to strike; Oathkeeper contacting the Walker's ice blade with the same vibrating clang.

Jaime had never felt so helpless in battle; he grabbed the dragonglass sword as Brienne began to falter, their exhaustion was like a broken leg, handicapping them in this fight against the Walker.

The Walker with one viscous and brutal lunge; swat Oathkeeper out of the way before backhanding Brienne so hard that she was sent shoulder first into the wall with a thunderous thwack. Brienne didn't need to be told; she knew in that moment that her shoulder was dislocated. Sweat poured down her face and her yell of pain was like ringing the dinner bell to the Walker.

Jaime ran to Brienne; standing in-between her and the Walker; but the Walker was done with playing with its food. With one strong swing, the dragonglass sword was sent from Jaime's hand and he was sent sprawled to the floor.

The Walker reached down and grabbed the back of Jaime's armour, hauling him up like he weighed nothing and holding him up in front of his face. The Walker's eyes boring into his soul as it raised its ice sword to deliver the final blow; the tip of the blade aimed at Jaime's neck.

At least Jaime could find some comfort in the mere fact that it took an ancient creature of myth and legend to finally kill him.

Jaime's thoughts were pulled from death when the Walker's eyes shifted to the side; an angry scowl taking over its face as it carelessly dropped Jaime to the floor. Jaime's ears were filled with the ringing that the Walker's blade made whenever faced with Valyrian Steel, one could be forgiven for thinking Brienne had stood up and began fighting the creature again.

But when Jaime looked up, he saw none other than Bronn, holding Widow's Wail and throwing everything he had at the Walker.

"Come on you blue fucker!" Bronn yelled as he swung at the Walker. The creature letting out a shrill hiss as it took a swing at Bronn that would have took his head off if he weren't so quick on his feet.

Bronn had fought men of all shapes and sizes, but the thing in front of him wasn't a man. It may have looked somewhat like a man but the way it hissed and screeched, the way it crushed men and threw them around like they were nothing was anything but human.

The Walker and Bronn clashed swords; the vibrating of Widow's Wail echoing through the air as they fought. Jaime could not fathom why Bronn had come back, he had a chance to abandon this battle once and for all, but instead he had come back and was fighting one of the Walkers.

To protect him.

Why?

* * *

The Night King walked with purpose, snow crunching and hardening beneath his feet as he strode towards his objective. 3 White Walkers covering his right, left and back, a group of at least 50 undead Wights of assorted origin, 5 undead direwolves, 3 Undead Sabre Cats, an Undead Bear and a pair of Pale Spiders the size of horses.

The Night King knew there would be resistance; but that mattered little to him.

His focus was fixed on the one task he needed to attend to, a wrong that must be put right, a piece on the board that must be put back in place, a puzzle piece out of synch with the rest.

The clearing came into view, as did the weirwood tree of Winterfell. This was a tree he had not looked upon with his eyes for so long. Ancient history for some, now relegated to a memory at the very back of his mind, not worthy of further thought.

Then he saw him, he had made eye contact.

The Stark boy, in his chair, blank expression plastered across his face as Crannogmen archers and Unsullied troopers stood at the ready.

The Night King simply stared.

One of the Walker's let out a battle screech; pointing with its spear at the living. The Wights charged along with the Direwolves and the Pale Spiders.

But all of that was white noise as the Night King focused on Bran. His legs carrying him past the bloodshed as he began to walk towards his target.

* * *

Jon ran; fire in his eyes and Longclaw in his hand as he cut down any wights in his way. running through the courtyard of his ancestral home; Jon stayed in hot pursuit of his quarry, his quarry being the source of all this death and misery.

As he ran, he saw the battle unfold.

He saw Unsullied lines broken and the soldiers forced to fight in smaller groups and formations. A few Unsullied had assembled themselves into porcupine formations with their shields and spears, a technique he had only read about in books.

Lyle Crakehall was battling alongside Grey Worm, a group of his unsullied and many Free Folk, the Strongboar had drove Tusk into the head of an undead bear after it had killed a member of the Cave people. Grey Worm covered the Westerland Knight's rear against any wights that tried to flank him; the West and the East working together against the dead.

Jon saw Sandor Clegane fighting alongside Gendry; Axe and Hammer, Hound and Stag as Ghost tackled wights to the floor and tore them to shreds.

Jon even saw his Uncle Benjen, the First Ranger of the watch fighting beside other brothers of the watch. The Eldest living Stark's movements were perfectly honed against the dead, as if he were born to fight them.

"JON! GO! NOW!" Benjen yelled at his nephew.

Benjen was right, Jon didn't have any time to waste trying to assist the others. He had a duty to fulfil, he had a King to slay. Finding the adrenaline to keep pushing, Jon went into a full sprint, his grip on Longclaw tightening.

* * *

Beric coughed up a lungful of blood as a wight drove its blade into his abdomen, Daenerys quickly dispatched the wight as she drove her dragonglass blade into its chest. The Lightning Lord shook off the pain and continued to swing his flaming sword before pushing himself back in front of Daenerys.

'_She must live, she must live, nothing else matters, she must_ live' he chanted within his head as he swung his blade.

* * *

The Undead bear ripped and clawed its way through the Unsullied line; the Sabre Cats, Direwolves and Wights leaping through the gaps to bring down troopers and rip their throats out. The Unsullied formation was broken as the men went into survival mode. Shield formations were not built to keep undead beasts at bay, so the main strength of the Unsullied was rendered obsolete.

The Walkers watched and followed close behind their King as he approached his goal.

* * *

Theon planted his dragonglass hand axe into the skull of a wight with a viscous yell; blood drenched the walls as Wights continued pouring in through the roof, bodies piled so high that many of the Wights could barely move.

Only a few of the Ironborn where left; Theon and three others who were in very bad shape, one was missing a hand, another had been impaled and was slowly bleeding out, and the last had lost an eye.

Theon himself wasn't looking good either as he had several large gashes across his torso, his chest plate had been ruined; a nasty cut above his right eye caused blood to run down his face and a Wight had managed to plant a dagger deep into his left leg.

There was no chance of escape at this point, but Theon kept fighting.

* * *

Footstep by footstep, the Night King approached; as Wights, and undead beasts kept the Unsullied and Crannogmen archers away from him as he slowly approached his destination. Howland fought beside his men, dragonglass coated sword in hand as he fought.

Meera stood in front of Bran, arrows at the ready.

But Melisandre and Arya Stark were nowhere to be found.

* * *

Benjen cut the head off a Wight before he saw the same flash of silver that Beric had seen; his eyes widened in shock as he began to look around in panic. She had to live, she couldn't die here and now.

Benjen thanked the gods when he spotted a Dothraki horse in absolute panic, its rider dead in the saddle. The Lone Wolf ran towards the horse, cutting down wights on the way and yanking the Dothraki corpse from the saddle before hopping on himself.

Benjen ignited his flail and rode towards the gap.

* * *

Meera fired arrow after arrow at the Wights, every shot a kill shot, but even she had to stop firing after a while to avoid hitting her fellow Crannogmen or the Unsullied that Queen Daenerys had placed in their defence.

That's when she noticed him; approaching slowly with a purpose.

Meera ignited an arrow and aimed at the Night King; her eyes focusing to plant it in between his eyes.

She released.

She was shocked when the Night King moved his head right before the arrow connected; the fire arrow harmlessly hitting the ground behind him. The Lord of the White Walkers continuing his advance.

* * *

"Stay together! Don't panic!" Sansa tried to calm the fleeing women and children as best as she could; the interior of Winterfell was large and the hallways vast, but even then the sounds of people panicking would only attract the Wights, for now they were occupied with the men fighting outside and the Ironborn in the main hall. Missandei kept Jory and Uma close to her; the two Northern orphans practically glued to her sides. Gilly held Little Sam close to her breast, the little boy making barely any sound, his mother having taught him well to stay quiet during times of panic. Sam stayed nearby but kept his hand fixed on the hilt of a Dragonglass dagger at all time, ready to defend his family and anyone else he could.

Tyrion waddled up to Sansa; always keeping an eye on the hallway behind them, as if waiting for the Wights to come bursting through after them at any moment. Tyrion knew that Theon and his Ironborn couldn't keep them at bay forever, if only poor Sansa knew the truth.

But when Tyrion looked to Sansa and saw the tears pouring down her face, he knew he had underestimated how much she knew. She knew Then was not coming back; the only thing they could do now was keep moving.

* * *

Meera nocked another arrow into her bow; but when she drew back and aimed her eyes widened in shock as she saw one of the Walker's let go of an ice spear. Leaping out of the way; Meera managed to evade the ice spear at it sliced through the air beside her.

If that spear had met its mark; she would have been stuck like a pig.

When Meera regained her bearings, she found that the Night King had closed the distance between with the two of them. Before she even had a chance to react, he backhanded her so hard she collided with a nearby tree with a sickening thud.

"MEERA!" Howland yelled; terrified his little girl had been killed before his eyes ran to her and knelt beside her prone form.

Putting a hand on her shoulder he was relieved to find she was still breathing, still alive. Looking up he saw that the Night King had lost all interest in Meera and was walking step by step towards Bran.

Howland could not let this stand; he could not stand by while this happened.

Howland ran to Bran and stood in front of him, holding his Dragonglass coated sword in an aggressive stance.

"You will come no further!" Howland yelled as loudly as a man of his stature could.

The Night King stopped and simply glanced at him.

"I am Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch, this boy is the son of the only man I would call brother, his aunt was the first person who gave me strength… you shall go no further!" Howland growled with a slight tremble in his voice.

The Night King tilted his head.

'_Lyanna…Ned…Jojen…I tried…forgive me for trembling'_ Howland said a silent prayer in his head before he swung at the King of the White Walkers.

The Night King didn't retaliate as he simply dodged and evaded every swing Howland sent his way; the Dragonglass sword ringing through the air with every failed attack. Howland began to sweat, his age beginning to catch up with him, his war wound acting up and his strength leaving him.

"FIGHT BACK YOU COWARD!" Howland roared at he swung the sword again.

*CLANG!*

Howland stared in horror at the Night King had caught his sword in his bare hand, tilting his head before ripping it from Howland's weakened grasp and throwing it to the floor. Howland panted and wheezed as he glared at the Night King; the lord of death itself standing there as if waiting for a response.

As if waiting for him to move.

Meera's eyes opened as she came to, her vision unblurring as she tried to pick herself up. The shock of pain all across her right arm told her immediately that it was broken, but when she remembered the last thing she saw, she looked up towards the Heart Tree and there she saw her Father standing against the Night King with no sword in his hand, wheezing for breath.

"I…am Lord Howland Reed…of Greywater Watch….I…will not…bend" Howland said between gasps.

The Night King's hand wrapped around Howland's throat and lifted him from the ground; the lord of Greywater Watch's hands wrapping around the wrist of his attacker as the Night King held him close; his glowing blue eyes boring into Howland's soul.

"FATHER!" Meera cried as the Night King hurled Howland at the tree that Meera was prone against.

But while the Night King simply tossed Meera aside as if she was nothing, he threw Howland with a fury that sent the Grannogmen hurdling into the trunk of the tree. Howland almost bent across the trunk as an audible crack filled the air; the tree shook as Howland slumped at the base, Meera scrambling through the pain to get to her father.

"Father! No! Don't do this to me! Please!" Meera pushed Howland's greying hair out of his face to see the blood running from his nose and mouth, his eyes closed shut, his body absent of any signs of life.

Tears began to fall from Meera's eyes as she buried her face in her father's chest.

The Night King paid it no mind as he approached Bran, still sat in his wheelchair, his eyes rolled back into his skull and his mouth agape like a fish. The lord of the White Walkers stood little more than a foot away from the young cripple, his eyes boring into the three eyed raven as if waiting.

Bran's eyes flickered back, and he slowly looked up to meet eyes with the Night King.

…

…

* * *

Daenerys panted heavily; the dragonglass sword going limp in her hands as she struggled to stand up. Beric looked worse than the wights attacking him; he had more swords and daggers in him than an armoury. So much Blood had flowed onto the snow from his wounds that it was a wonder he hadn't shrivelled up into a dried-up husk.

But still, he fought with that same ferocity, swinging his flaming sword, cutting down any wights that came too close and taking whatever attack they intended for Daenerys.

Daenerys knew this was futile, she knew that she and Beric could not hold the wights off forever, their numbers would eventually overwhelm even his fiery resolve. But just as all hope seemed fire; the sound of horse hooves rattling upon ground rang in her ears. Turning to the breach, Daenerys saw Benjen Stark astride one of her Bloodrider's steeds.

"DAENERYS!" He shouted as he held out a hand when within arm's reach.

Daenerys reached out and grabbed onto Benjen's arm; the Stark's eyes widening in shock when he saw a Sabre Cat leap for them. But luckily Beric had stepped into the way of the beast as its fangs pierced his shoulder and blood sprayed forth in lethal amounts.

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Beric shouted, blood spewing from his mouth as he shouted. The tip of his flaming sword emerging from the back of the undead Sabre Cat, the creature letting out one last yelp as it went limp.

Benjen didn't need to be told twice as he hauled Daenerys onto the back of the horse and spurred it into a sprint. Daenerys was stunned at the show of sacrifice that the Lightning Lord had shown, she wrapped an arm around Benjen's waist but upon their retreat she shouted "What are you doing!? We can't leave him!"

Beric could only smile as he saw the silver hair of Daenerys Targaryen leave on the back of Benjen Stark's horse. She was out of harm's reach; he felt a sense of euphoria as the wights in pursuit failed to keep up with the Northman's steed. He had accomplished his goal; he could feel it deep within his breast, the Lord was pleased.

The Lightning Lord closed his eyes as the Wights swarmed over him; the pain of his ties to this world finally being relinquished after so long.

"I'm not going back! You're all that matters! The rest of us are expendable but not you!" Benjen shouted back without thinking as he spurred the poor horse so badly that Daenerys feared he would cripple the poor creature.

Why had Dondarrion done that? why had he of all people sacrificed his life for her? She had never even had a conversation with him beyond a word of greeting here and there, yet he was willing to die in such a horrendous way just to keep her alive? What did Lord Stark mean about her being all that mattered?

All these thoughts ran through her mind in the span of a few seconds.

*REAARERRRRRRR!* The Horse let out what could only be described at a screech of terror as it reared; Benjen moving fast to turn, wrap his arms around Dany and take the brunt of the Landing himself.

Daenerys finally saw what had put the horse into an absolute panic as it was lifted into the jaws of Viserion. The Undead dragon had hauled himself across the snow on his broken wingtips; his hide ruined beyond recognition, only one blue eye remaining and most his teeth either broken or gone.

Viserion threw the Horse to the wayside; its blood running down his maw as he crept forward.

Benjen drew Dark Sister and held it out in front of him as Viserion let out a wet, guttural snarl, steam erupting from his broken maw.

"If I die…run…don't look back, just run" Benjen whispered as he kept his body in front of Dany's.

* * *

…

…

A second passed as Bran simply stared at him without a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

…

…

The Night King's hand lifted slowly.

…

…

*Creak*

The Night King's head shot up as he heard a Tree branch shift above him.

There with her double headed spear in one hand; was Arya Stark, face in a scowl of anger as she dropped down to the Night King.

*TWHIP!*

Meera Reed let loose her dragonglass headed arrow; the Night King's attention now divided between two attacks. Arya from above, Meera to his left, a Wolf of House Stark with her fangs bared and a Lizard-Lion of House Reed with hers equally sharp and deadly.

The Night King's right hand shot up and batted Arya's spear out of her hand in a shocking display of speed as his left hand caught Meera's arrow out of the air; his blue eyes glaring at the daughter of Howland Reed. Arya however still had one trump card; sheathed in her belt, a 'gift' from the now deceased Littlefinger.

The Catspaw.

With every bit of ferocity, she could muster; Arya drew the dagger from her belt and lunged at the Night King. Arya had trained for this; she had trained to kill, to look death in the eye and not flinch, she would be the one to end this. Arya Stark, killer of the Night King.

The Dagger sank deep into the Night King; slicing through both black leather and icy flesh like butter as the Valyrian steel tasted the flesh of an ancient enemy.

Arya smirked.

…

…

…

Her smirk disappeared as she looked up and saw it.

He hadn't shattered.

He didn't fall into a thousand pieces like Jon said White Walkers did.

He didn't even flinch.

The Bastard wasn't even bleeding.

He simply glared at her with a look that could be understood no matter what language you spoke.

'Is that all?'

The Night King's right hand darted forward and grabbed Arya's right arm, her hand still holding the dagger.

*CRACK!*

Meera's arrow was snapped in the Night King's grip.

The same as Arya's arm.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Arya screamed at the top of her lungs as the Night King snapped her arm like a twig. The young wolf fell to the ground screaming bloody murder as the pain tore through her body unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Arya had felt injury, she had been hurt in her training with the faceless men. But this was something else; every cell in her body, every fibre of her being was screaming out in agony even as the Night King reached down; grabbed the scruff of her collar and threw her out of his way like a piece of refuse not worthy of his attention.

Arya fell face first into the snow; her arm was burning; a broken arm shouldn't be burning should it? Arya then felt a pair of hands, one on her head and another on her arm as the burning and the pain began to slowly fade.

"Shhhh, child…calm…calm" Melisandre whispered as calmly as she could as she cradled Arya's form to herself.

She could feel the darkness beginning to enshroud the Young Stark as she squeezed her eyes shut at the pain, her throat going hoarse and her breathing becoming shallow as sweat poured down her face.

The most Melisandre could do was keep the Dark at bay, to keep her stable and as calm as she could.

"Shhh, it'll be alright" Melisandre whispered with a tremble in her voice as she looked up.

The Red Priestess could only watch on as she looked at the Night King staring at the young Stark Boy. This moment was important; as important as Aegon's first steps on Westeros, as important as the death of Jaehaerys that led to the dance of dragons, as important as the swing of Robert's Warhammer into Rhaegar's chest, as important as the sword swing that took Ned Stark's head.

And it must be witnessed.

The Night King's eyes narrowed in an almost angry gaze at the young Stark boy that had barely flinched at the breaking of his sister's arm.

'_So, this is it? This is what the old one died to protect? This is not what I wanted or expected…this husk of a man…I suppose I must correct this, for events to proceed as they should!'_

The Night King's hand shot forward and landed on Bran's forehead, the skin on Bran's face not blistering or freezing like his arm had.

Bran's eyes rolled over white.

The Night King's eyes glowed blue so harsh that one would be forgiven for seeing blue flame.

**Uh…yeah….remember when I said this chapter was the last chapter of the Battle of Winterfell….well funny thing happened, I was writing this chapter and then looked at the Wordcount and….yeah I decided to cut it down…again….LOOK I WARNED YOU GUYS THAT ALL THAT BUILDUP WASN'T GOING TO BE RESOLVED QUICKLY!**

**My Long Night is exactly that…LOOOOOOONG! **

**Anyways, you'll also be glad to hear the next chapter is already finished and should be out in a few days. So, by the time most of you have finished reading it will be time for the update…if you don't just skim this in a few minutes. **

**ANYWAY! Thoughts? Questions!? REVIEWS! And don't forget guys:**

**Review! Favourite! Follow and WASH YOUR HANDS!**

**DAKKAMAN777 OUT!**


	18. The Beginning of Night

**To answer the Question of a single reviewer by the name of ZenJack "Is a few days a euphemism for a month?" Hehe….Ehhhhh….Sorry, This is what I get for promising a quick upload, My bad. **

**Oh well, live and learn eh? At least this chapter came out quicker than the last one? **

**I may be grasping at straws but hey ho, at least it's out and in my defence this chapter is longer than I originally intended.**

**Also…funny how the release of this chapter is on the year anniversary of the God awful garbage pile that was the finale of Game of Thrones season 8….the wounds still haven't healed and I doubt they ever will, I'm just glad I'm doing my part in the ongoing healing process. **

**Hope you guys enjoy.**

**On with the chapter.**

**GoT Rewrite 18**

**The Beginning of Night**

Daenerys wanted to remember Viserion as he was; as the majestic dragon he had been in his final days, soaring the skies above Dragonstone, his scales shimmering in the sunlight, she would always remember the tiny thing that nuzzled against her during particularly cold nights.

Her baby boy.

But the things staring at her right now; with tendons and muscles fibres hanging out of its shredded hide, devoid of that same glimmering sheen that made him so beautiful, his once vibrant eyes now a cold and dead blue. His maw now full of jagged and broken teeth as his face had lost all symmetry due to Drogon's jaws splitting it. Flame barely able to leave his chest and enter his throat as it leaked freely from the claw marks left by his brothers and the hole left by the spear of the Night King.

This thing was no longer her son, it was an insult to the proud creatures on the sigil of her house.

It was exactly what people ignorant of dragons thought they were, it was a mindless killing machine with no soul inhabiting its bloodthirsty hide.

Benjen's breath rang in her ears, the oldest living Stark using his body as a shield against the colossal husk that slowly but surely dragged itself closer. Running was not an option at this point, the moment they would take an opportunity to run then Viserion would lunge like a Cobra.

Benjen knew what must happen, when Viserion was busy tearing him apart it would give Daenerys a chance to flee.

For her to live, he had to be torn to shreds.

Not the end he envisioned, but one certainly worth it.

"When he is killing me, you run…you understand?" Benjen got Daenerys' attention away from Viserion.

"I'm not leaving you to die!" Dany spoke back harshly. As far as she was concerned any family of Jon's was her family too.

"You must…you have to live for all our sakes" Benjen hissed back.

It was at that moment that Viserion's jaws widened and he lunged forwards; Benjen putting himself completely in front of Daenerys with Dark Sister in his hands. But Viserion did not get the chance to sink his teeth into Stark flesh as a white flash whizzed past both Dany and Benjen and clung onto the dragon's face.

Dany could not believe what she was seeing.

It was Ghost, the pure white Direwolf had leapt onto the face of Viserion was sinking his fangs and claws deep into the jawline of the dragon. No blood spurt from the wounds but flesh, hide and tendon were ripped asunder like paper in the jaws of the Direwolf.

Viserion let out a screech as he shook his head back and forth, Ghost being hurled violently into the snow, the Direwolf letting out a pained yip as he landed roughly on one of his front paws.

"Ghost!" Dany called out, Benjen's arm being the only thing keeping her from running to the Direwolf's side.

Viserion's attention went right back to Dany as she called out to the Direwolf; at this point Viserion was no more sentient than a rabid beast, sounds and moving targets attracting his attention. Ghost noticed the Dragon's gaze go back to Daenerys and sprung to his feet, dashing over to Benjen and Dany.

Despite the pain running through the Direwolf's front left leg, he stood in front of the Stark and the Targaryen and snarled viscously at the looming dragon. The red eyed Direwolf would not back down from the larger dragon as he bared his teeth.

Viserion looked even rougher after Ghost's attack, the muscles and tendons keeping his jaw attacked had been severed and torn open on the right side, leading to a slack jaw of sorts. The Dragon was looking worse and worse, less and less like the kind-hearted creature that Daenerys saw as a son.

Ghost knew what was growing within Daenerys as well as Benjen did; and the Direwolf would die before allowing their lives to come to harm. His master trusted him, trusted him to protect his mate and Ghost would not let his master down.

***AAAAAWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!***

The howl that echoed through the air was not a howl that came from the mouth of Ghost, it came from the nearby treeline and it attracted the attention of the undead Viserion away from his previous targets.

From the treeline came hundreds of small forms, dashing across the snow in packs. Wolves of all shapes and fur colours and at the head of them a massive grey furred Direwolf.

A Direwolf that Ghost had not seen since he was still the runt of the litter.

Nymeria ran at the head of the pack; hundreds of Wolves that dashed towards Viserion at breakneck speeds, the snow kicked up by the wolves creating a cloud of white as they leapt towards their enemy.

"Bran…you did it lad" Benjen couldn't help but smile in relief.

Within seconds Viserion was swarmed with the bodies of gnashing and growling beasts; Wolves sinking their teeth and claws deep into hide, ripping off chunks of flesh and hide with a bestial ferocity.

Nymeria latched onto the still functional side of Viserion's jaw; growling and snarling as she ripped and tore at the tendons still holding his lower jaw attached to his head. The undead dragon let out a long and loud snarl as he began thrashing like crazy; wolves being flung to the snow, many yipping in pain as they landed violently.

Nymeria was a strong and powerful Direwolf; but she was still only a fraction of the size of even a wounded Viserion. She was flung away just like every other wolf that tore and bit at Viserion's hide, but not before she managed to tear and gouge at his left eye.

Nymeria let out a loud yip of pain; she may have been bigger at birth, but she was not wearing the protective jacket that Ghost had adorned. The Direwolf however, once back on her feet, rushed over to Ghost and stood beside him, growling and snarling at Viserion as did every wolf present.

The horde of Wolves, while formidable were not enough to bring the undead dragon down. Viserion snarling as drool and bile dripped freely from his broken maw; broken and jagged teeth sticking out at all awkward angles. His one completely broken wing and the gaping holes in his mid-section.

He was barely a Dragon anymore.

Viserion let out a loud snarl as he reared back to lunge. But before he even had a chance to sink his broken and crooked fangs into flesh; a powerful set of jaws closed around his neck. Flesh tore and ripped as a huge emerald shape landed down right beside Viserion and latched onto its neck.

Rhaegal was back; and he was going to put his brother out of his misery.

Viserion let out a high pitched screech as Rhaegal twisted and ripped; his need to defend his mother filling his resolve as he thrashed his head like a Crocodile, the rotten and decaying flesh yielding under the superior strength of the living Dragon as Viserion's head was separated from his neck.

Viserion's body twitched and thrashed as his head was dropped into the snow and to Daenerys' horror the single eye on the head of Viserion was still moving. Despite everything that had been done to him; he was still not dead, his suffering would not end at the claws or fangs of dragons or direwolves, only two things could release him from this suffering now.

"Stand back…I'll take care of thi…" Benjen began until Daenerys cut him off by grabbing his arm.

"No…I will" she whispered with tears welling up in her eyes. Benjen could only watch as Daenerys pried Dark Sister from Benjen's loosening fingers.

Every step towards Viserion came with another painful memory.

His hatching at the funeral pyre of Drogo.

Him mewling at her soft touch as they found safety within the walls of Quarth after so long wandering the red wastes.

Him and his brothers rescuing her from the warlocks.

The crystal blue seas on the journey to Astapor.

The many, many times he and his brothers played on the roads to Yunkai and Meereen. The ways they would fly and play and eat like kings of the skies, the way that Daenerys would always make time to show them how much she loved them.

When she had to lock him and Rhaegal beneath the great Pyramid because of what Drogon had done in his rebellious and wild youth whilst disconnected from his destined rider. That memory took a toll on Daenerys as Viserion had found himself in a new prison.

A prison of the flesh, both rotten and decaying as the only signs that could be confused with life were the twitching corpse and the single wandering eye on his broken and battered head.

His head could not even move; the sheer weight of his skull impossible to move with his broken and disconnected lower jaw, no neck to shift the weight. His only action available being the movements of his single ethereal blue eye.

Daenerys' breath fogged the air around her as she lifted Dark sister up and placed the tip against a nasty looking fracture near his orbital cavity. Dany could not help but let out on painful gasp as she gripped Dark Sister in both hands.

"Forgive me…Viserion" she whispered before putting all her weight into the sword and letting it pierce flesh and find what was left of his brain.

Blue eyes widened suddenly.

A long and loud exhale filled the air.

The eye ceased glowing.

The eye closed.

Rhaegal whimpered.

A Mother let out a sob of anguish as she put her boy down like a rabid dog, one of the most beautiful and unique creatures to ever live; one of the first three dragons to live for hundreds of years since the last whimpering wretch passed away no bigger than a cat. A wonder in the flesh, magic given form, the living incarnation of Targaryen fire and wrath.

Now reduced to a decayed corpse that had to be put out of its misery by its now grieving mother.

Daenerys let the tears flow freely as Rhaegal craned his head down to his mother. The green scaled dragon was still here, he was still alive and breathing, he may have been wounded and would scar, but he was here.

He shared his mother's pain.

Ghost nudged his head against Dany, Nymeria tilting her head at Ghost's affection for this stranger that smelt more like a Dragon than wolf, despite a slight scent of Wolf lingering about her. Nymeria however did not have the luxury of letting up as she ran with her wolves towards the battlefield, the other wolves had been commanded here by some force and the female Direwolf knew that in some way her human was involved.

"Daenerys" Benjen called her to attention as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

"We have to go…" he continued as she let out a deep breath before standing back up and handing Dark Sister back to Benjen.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he noticed how natural the Targaryen Valyrian Sword looked in her hands.

"I'm not touching this thing again until this battle is over" Daenerys replied as she looked at the bits of Viserion's brain matter clinging to the blade. Benjen could only nod as he took Dark Sister away from Daenerys' hands. The time would come when she would embrace her ancestral blade, but that day was not now.

"Thank you, Rhaegal, Ghost" Daenerys put a hand on Rhaegal's snout and a hand on Ghost's head. Both the Dragon and Direwolf giving out a nurturing snort of huff of relief that both Daenerys and the life within her were safe.

"We have to go…Jon will be needing us" Benjen said as he sheathed Dark Sister.

"Rhaegal, can you fly son?" Daenerys asked.

* * *

Sandor brought his axe down on the skull of a Wight, the blade lodging deep into his victim. The axe had been buried so deep that Sandor abandoned the weapon before drawing his Dragonglass sword and going back on the offensive.

The Hound was brought out of his battle trance when a huge black furred form leapt at him with its teeth bared and drool leaking from its mouth.

"AGH FUCK!" Sandor found the undead Direwolf's jaws latching around his steel vambrace, the stench of the creature's breath stinging his nostrils.

The Hound drew a Dragonglass dagger from his belt and drove it into the Direwolf's throat, the creature letting out a yelp before it dropped dead on top of him. The Hound used ever ounce of strength he could lift the corpse from him; a deep and rumbling growl earning his attention before he could.

Sandor looked down to see a hulking mass of white fur and fangs stalking him. One of those Sabre cats that Tormund had warned them of.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Sandor grunted.

Suddenly a 10 grey, white and black furred forms tackled the sabre cat, ripping and tearing at its throat and vital areas. The undead abomination tried to fight back but was quickly overwhelmed and ripped to shreds.

Wolves…Sandor had been saved by wolves.

Whatever apprehension Sandor may have felt was quickly overtaken by confusion when one of the wolves looked to him to reveal it had snow white eyes.

"Ah…ah why should I fucking bother?" Sandor grunted before picking up his Dragonglass sword and standing up.

* * *

Bronn swung at the Walker; Widow's wail in hand as he used every ounce of speed, power and experience he had gained in his long life as a Sellsword. The Walker's power however was like nothing Bronn had felt before as every sword swing only hammered in the inhuman nature of his opponent.

"Gagh!" Bronn yelled in pain as one powerful strike sent him backwards. The Sellsword falling roughly into a pile of fallen defenders and wights with a rough thud.

The Walker was not free from attack however as many gathered fighters tried throwing their hat into the mix. Jon's instructions to kill the Walkers ringing true in the memories of those defending Winterfell.

A Vale Knight clashed his Dragonglass sword against the Walker's blade, the icy demon grunted before it reached forward with its freehand and wrapping around the steel helm.

"AAAAGH!" The Vale Knight screamed as his head was crushed within the helmet by the sheer power of the Walker.

'_What the fuck am I doing?'_ Bronn questioned himself.

A Wildling took his chances to run at the Walker, only for the icy wraith to drive his sword into the man's gut, spilling his intestines all over the floor when he tore his blade free.

'_I should be in a castle…getting fucked by a highborn wife whilst drinking Arbor wine'_ Bronn rose to his feet; using Widow's wail to balance himself.

The Walker squeezed tighter; blood running freely down the Vale Knight's face as his skull was crushed like glass.

'_Fuckin Lannisters…I should have just left this fucking place before the war started, I wouldn't be here if not for that Tully bitch…or the fucking dwarf'_ Bronn spat out a glob of blood into the snow before holding Widow's wail tight.

The Walker swung its blade downwards, bisecting a glover bannerman down the middle.

'_A simple fucking end…a boring fucking end is all I wanted. Dying of old age and watching my little shits fight over my fortune…instead I had to throw in with those two…those two fucking Lannisters'_ Bronn lunged forward and forced the Walker to defend itself; Bronn's skill greater then the average bannerman.

'_Then again…Bronn Wightslayer has a nice ring to it…much better than Blackwater…fuck_ it' Bronn smirked.

'_if I die here…might as well make it fuckin memorable!'_ Bronn grinned like a madman as he attacked the Walker; Widow's wail grinding against enchanted Ice.

The Walker growled and with a sudden burst of energy it grabbed the hilt of Widow's wail and tore it from Bronn's grasp, now without his blade Bronn was open to attack.

*SHINK!*

Ice sliced through flesh as the Walker's blade plunged deep into Bronn's gut. The cold pain coursing through Bronn's system as a spurt of blood shot forth from his mouth. The Walker grunted and brought Bronn close, wanting to see the fear in his eyes.

Bronn looked into the blue eyes of the Walker, the creature expecting him to shit himself. But instead, Bronn winked.

*SHINK!*

The Walker had no time to react as Bronn had driven a Dragonglass dagger into the Walker's neck. Bronn let out one last blood laugh before the Walker let out a long and pained screech as it crumbled and shattered into a thousand pieces.

About 3 dozen wights at that moment collapsed into the ground; giving many of the defenders a second wind to rally and form up.

The patch of broken ice lay before Bronn who simply smiled and spat a glob of blood into it.

"Icy fucking cunt" Bronn chuckled before he felt lightheaded and collapsed to the floor.

Jaime scrambled over to Bronn; his flesh hand finding the bloody wound; the way the blood was flowing onto the snow was worrying. There was no coming back from a wound such as this, too many organs had been pierced, Jaime himself had put away many opponents with an attack to such an area.

"Get a Maester!" Jaime called out in vain.

"What's the matter Sisterfucker? You not feeling well?" Bronn chuckled with a bloody cough.

"Why…why did you do it?" Jaime asked.

"Suppose I'm fucking crazy…Why did you do this? Eh?" Bronn threw the question right back at the Lannister.

For his entire life Jaime had been judged wrongly for an action no one understood when his blade pierced Aerys Targaryen's back he had been marked for life. Since then he chose to play a part, not care, be what they all thought him to be, until Brienne saw through the act he had created. Bronn had always been that man that only cared about money and profit and nothing else; but Jaime always saw a spark of something.

Loyalty.

"I can't thank you enough" Jaime whispered.

"Shove your thanks, I didn't do it for you…just make sure I get a fuckin song at least eh? Didn't kill a White Walker for nothing" Bronn asked weakly.

"I'll…do my best" Jaime replied.

"One more thing…slap that short arse brother of yours for me" Bronn smiled as he began to go pale.

"I will" Jaime let out a weak laugh.

Bronn smiled before his body went limp; his eyes glazed over, and his arm dropped into the snow.

Jaime laid Bronn down gently as he could; that shit eating grin still plastered across his face even in death. Brienne's hand touched Jaime's shoulder as the Lannister stood up, reclaiming Widow's Wail as he did.

Brienne held Oathkeeper tightly as both she and Jaime exchanged a nod before looking to the ongoing battle and with a simultaneous battle cry, charged into the fray.

* * *

The cold, that was all Bran could feel.

Then suddenly, his head was filled with images, some he had seen, others he had never seen in his life before or even in previous visions. Between the images it felt like a blizzard; static noise filling his ears between every change.

Ravens flying overhead.

Closed eyes opening to a glowing blue.

An Aged Targaryen King sitting on throne; his fingernails long and his hair unkempt "BURN THEM ALL!" he shouted.

An old decrepit Dragon screeching at the top of its lungs before a Young Lion wrapped its jaws around the dragon's throat from behind. A Stag driving its antlers into the dragon's chest and a Direwolf gnawing on the dragon's wing. The Lion, the Stag and the Direwolf ripping the dragon to pieces.

An Ironborn king with sea-drenched hair standing in a sea of blood; his one hand outstretched and closed tight as he raised his head slowly. His left eye was missing, a gaping bloody socket in its place as he opened his hand, his eye still dripping blood and eye fluid. He smiled before the socket began to glow an ethereal blue.

The Ironborn king's form was replaced by shimmering visages of another Ironborn man, clad in heavy plate armour. The man's eyes could not be seen from behind his kraken shaped helm, kraken tentacles emerging from the gaps in his armour.

Two Krakens; one missing an eye as both tore and ripped each other to shreds until the seas ran red with blood.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

A City on fire, green fire consuming the guilty and innocent alike as they screamed; a Golden rose burning to a crisp under the roar of a Lioness.

A field of men on fire; Lion roars to turning to screams as they burned. The entire field filling the air with smoke as the men were turned into statues of ash, statues that fell to pieces when a massive black shape flew low overhead.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

A Stag impaling the chest of a Dragon, which morphed to the forms of a full armoured Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen at the battle of the Trident.

A Forge; Valyrian steel hardening to a pristine edge.

A Mangy Lion cub, pathetically mewling as a pack of rabid dogs ripped and tore at a lone Direwolf, the image morphing to the sight of Bran's father with his hands tied behind his back and his own blade dropped onto his bare neck.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

Bran falling from the tower.

A circular pattern made of limbs.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

Another pattern made of Horse heads.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

The Pattern made of stone surrounding a Heart Tree.

Children of the Forest chanting in a circle; around a circular pattern of fire in the dead of night.

Dragonglass; an entire mountain of it shimmering before it turned to pure shadow.

Bran falling, this time into the darkness that replaced the Dragonglass.

A circle of people in red robes; tattooed pattern adorning their faces as they chanted in a foreign tongue, a long dead tongue as they raised their hands to a colossal bonfire.

An aged human king, dressed in an armour that Bran could not recognise; sat on a throne of pure ice and grasping a longsword in both hands as the steel slowly froze, the King looking up and his eyes turning icy blue.

'_The Cycle must be broken'_

The Bonfire surrounded by humans in red robes, the chanting ceasing and the robed humans recoiling in horror as the bonfire turned blue, the flames taking the form of a snarling skeletal face.

A Child of the Forest watching their hand as it turned blue and translucent like ice as opposed to their earthy skin tone.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

A Giant roaring into the skies, his breath turning icy as the skies went black and his skin turned an icy blue.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

A Valyrian Steel blade meeting a blade of pure ice.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

The form of Alden stark wielding his Valyrian Steel sword against an unseen foe, Alden's form morphing and being replaced with Jon.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

The form of Rhaella, the wife of Alden, riding on the back of a colossal red dragon, larger than even Balerion the black dread, her form slowly morphing into Daenerys riding on the back of Drogon.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

Images of Alden tied to the tree and Benjen Stark lying prostrate on the ground with a gaping wound in his gut cutting back and forth as a Child of the forest slowly plunged a dagger of Dragonglass into their chest.

Alden and Benjen screamed as the dragonglass cut into their flesh.

'_The cycle must be broken'_

The screams of Alden and Benjen being replaced by the screaming of a woman. Rhaella laying on her back; Alden standing beside her holding her hand as she delivered their son.

Brandon Stark.

'_The cycle must be broken' _

A man stuck in the roots of a tree. A man that Bran recognised as Brynden Rivers, the three eyes raven before him. Brynden looked up and spoke those same five words.

"The cycle must be broken"

Bran dropped down to his knees; gasping for breath as he could see naught but white snow and hear naught but a howling blizzard.

"What…where…what?" Bran asked as he felt everything change in that mere instant.

He…felt different.

He felt…he felt.

Bran could feel his self-return.

He could…he could feel his thoughts as he did years ago.

He could not explain it…but he felt as if the veil had been lifted, as if the numbness had ceased. Like he could breathe within his own skin again.

But then the emotion of fear struck him when he looked up to see the form of the Night King; standing there, staring at him.

Bran recoiled and tried to flee like he had so long ago.

But like then, same as before the Night King grabbed his arm, refusing to let him leave. But unlike before he did not wake up, he did not feel the icy chill, and the Night King simply stood there, not tightening his grip of appearing aggressive in anyway.

Bran struggled against the Night King's grip "Let me go! LET GO! NGGH! NG!" Bran shouted as he tried to pry the Night King's hand from his arm. Seconds passed as Bran stopped and realized he was still alive, but not only that.

He could feel emotion, he felt fear…and then…confusion.

"What…what are you…what are you doing?" Bran asked as the Night King just stared at him.

"Aren't you going to kill me? Isn't that what you want!? To kill the Three Eyed Raven?! Well I'm here…why aren't you…" Bran stopped in between his questioning.

"Unless….you…don't want to kill me" Bran's breathing slowed.

The Night King let go of his arm and dropped his to the side.

Bran rubbed his forearm.

"Then…then what do you want then?" Bran asked.

The Night King raised a single hand and pointed, as the blizzard began to fade and fall away.

From there Bran could see a lone man on horseback; long dark hair and a beard adorning his face as he rode forwards. As he came closer; Bran could make out the man, it was none other than Alden Stark with the first incarnation of Ice strapped to the side of his horse.

"Alden Stark…" Bran commented as he realized who it was.

As Alden rode past Bran and the Night King; Bran could finally see what he was riding to in the middle of this icy tundra.

An army; thousands…tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands…millions. Rows upon rows of bodies far beyond what the eye could see. Screeching and snarling and the very gnashing of teeth one would expect to hear upon arrival in the deepest circle of the coldest and darkest of hells.

An army of the dead.

It was the Long Night; the first Long Night.

The First Battle for the Dawn.

"You…you are allowing me to see this?" Bran asked the Night King who was stood calmly beside him.

The Night King only stared ahead as Alden approached the army with no fear in his eyes. Every other time Bran had tried to look back at the events of the first Long Night the Night King was always there to stop him…but now, it seemed he was being forced to watch.

Bran no longer had any say in the matter, right now he was little more than a witness.

Snow crunched under Horse hooves as Alden rode towards the hordes of the undead. Even as his mount began to whiny and panic; Alden stroked its side before halting.

"Easy boy…I can go the rest of the way" Alden whispered as he reached down and retrieved Ice from his horse's side before hopping off. The Horse gave a snort before Alden slapped its rear end to send it away. The Lord of the North held his sword close and continued to walk, the blistering cold not affecting him as it would a normal man.

The dead stood in lines; unlike the dead that Bran had seen, these ones were dressed differently, very differently. Instead of the black of the Night's watch he saw armour comprised of bones, stone, wooden splints and leather in different styles than those he had seen before.

The dead stared at Alden as he approached before suddenly looking up and screeching in mass, hissing and crouching as if bracing themselves.

Bran had not noticed because of the blizzard; he had not noticed the giant form soaring above them as it swooped in and landed with an earth shuddering thud. The form of a dragon, the same size as Drogon but red in colour, on its back he familiar form of Alden's silver haired wife Rhaella.

"Rhaella, what are you doing here?!" Alden shouted angrily as the Valyrian dismounted her dragon.

"I'm not going to sit aside in that dammed castle whilst you do this!" the silver haired dragon rider walked up to her husband and threw her arms around him.

Alden could not help but wrap his free arm around her and bury his face in her beautiful silver locks one more time. He inhaled her scent deeply, that lavender scent that he would remember until his dying day.

"You cannot be here…I must do this alone" Alden replied.

"I can't let you be alone during this…please…just…let me stay" Rhaella begged with tears welling in her eyes.

Alden brought a hand up to stroke the hair from Rhaella's cheek and caress her soft skin one last time "All right my love…but please…whatever happens…do not interfere"

Rhaella only nodded before pressing her lips to Alden's one last time; slowly and painfully Alden had to tear himself from Rhaella's side. Those steps towards the hordes of the dead were the longest and most painful of Alden's life, every step was one away from the love of his life and a step towards his inevitable fate.

A fate he accepted when his son became involved.

Now standing a mere 10 feet away from the army of the dead; Alden steeled himself and unsheathed Ice. The gleaming edge of Dragonsteel stood to attention and found its razor edge shimmering in the snow as Alden planted it into the floor in front of him. With both hands clasped around the hilt of the sword Alden called out in a loud and authoritative voice.

"LORD OF NIGHT! I ALDEN, SON OF THE NORTH DO HEARBY CHALLENGE YOU TO SINGLE COMBAT! LEAVE YOUR HORDES BEHIND AND FACE ME! THE CYCLE MUST CONTINUE!" Alden yelled out loud; remembering the words he was told to recite.

As his words echoed; the blizzard ceased. The harsh snowfall replaced by a light peppering of powder snow; the screeching and growling of the wights ceasing as they all went rigid before parting like the red sea.

Alden took in a deep breath as he saw the figure approaching him.

Bran looked to his side as the Night King watched the events unfold "Your grand entrance I presume?" Bran asked; the Night King turned to look at Bran and his eyes narrowed before returning to the sight before them. Bran watched as he heard the footfalls approached Alden, the Lord of the North shrugging his cloak from his shoulders as he watched his opponent got closer and closer.

Bran's eyes widened when the Night King arrived, standing 10 feet from Alden.

This…this was not the same Night King that was observing these events beside him.

Nor was this a regular White Walker; the icy crown of spikes protruding from his head were unmistakably those of the Night King. This Night King had a long flowing beard, stood at a full 7 feet wearing a suit of ancient iron armour, a black cloak flowing from his shoulders and a longsword of Ice in one hand.

Those glowing blue eyes were the same however, those same ethereal blue eyes that would pierce into your very soul.

A Flash appeared before Bran's eyes, a split second of an image; Jon and Daenerys standing in a cave made of Dragonglass lit by torchlight. They were looking at the image of a cave drawing, of three figures, two White Walkers…and a bearded Night King.

Bran had not even gotten over the general shock when Alden kicked the tip of Ice up and held it in both hands.

The Old Night King reached up and took off his cloak and threw it into the winds; now revealing his huge yet lean frame much like the frame of the Night King that Bran knew up to now.

Bran felt the tension in the air as the two began to circle each other, the countless Hordes of the Undead watching on one side and Rhaella with her dragon on the other. The red dragon gave snort as its eyes narrowed at the Night King; its master being the only thing keeping it from lunging or letting loose a gout of flame.

Valyrian Steel met Condensed ice.

And the battle for the dawn commenced.

* * *

Arya's face dripped sweat as she shivered in the unbearable pain coursing through her body; Melisandre keeping a firm yet gentle grip on the broken arm, the flesh surrounding the break caught between blistering heat and deathly cold.

The young She-Wolf had done her ancestors proud; she didn't flinch in the face of death and night that was currently stood a mere 10 feet away, it was a miracle that she was still drawing breath, if not for the Red Priestess she would be a frozen husk of a corpse by now.

"Breath little wolf…you still have a part to play" Melisandre whispered as tenderly as she could, hoping Arya could hear her over the pain.

The Night King hand remained clasped around the head of Bran; eyes now black whilst the young Stark's eyes rolled back white. The White Walkers stood by their king as he did what needed to be done; Wights and undead beasts now laying dead beside the Unsullied and Crannogmen that were fighting them, the snow stained red with blood as the Night King, his two Walkers, Arya, Melisandre and Meera now the only living creatures in the Godswood.

Meera had used the remainder of her strength to let that last arrow loose, now she lay unconscious by the body of her father. It was a miracle that the Young Reed had managed to stay conscious as long as she did after the vicious way the Night King had batted her to the side, but after expending the last of her energy she lay prostrate, no longer a threat.

The Walkers stood to attention as they heard the footsteps approach in the snow.

The shimmer of Valyrian steel could only mean one thing; he had arrived.

"BRAN!" Jon shouted as he broke out into a full sprint with Longclaw firmly grasped in his hand.

The Walker began to approach Jon with their weapons in hand; but promptly stopped in their tracks and turned to see their King looking in their direction, his black eyes slowly going back to their ethereal blue.

The Night King gave the two Walkers a quick head tilt to the side; gesturing for them to step aside. The Two Walkers bowed and veered off to the sides leaving a wide space between Jon and his adversary.

The Night King reached behind him and unsheathed the sword on his back; the hardened ice letting out a long and shrill hiss as it left its sheath. The Lord of the White Walkers and the Son of Rhaegar slowly began to close the distance between each other, the tension in the air so thick it could be cut with a knife.

Jon couldn't help but grimace as he passed the bodies of the slain unsullied and Crannogmen, these were men loyal to both his houses, the Crannogmen viciously loyal to House Stark whilst the Unsullied were loyal to the death to the woman he loved.

Their deaths would not go unavenged.

Jon held Longclaw in both hands and with a growl that would make Rhaegal proud he lunged at the Night King. Ice met Valyrian Steel as Longclaw collided with the Night King's blade; Jon with an overhead swing as the Night King simply raised his sword one handed to block it.

The impact reverberated through the air; snow fell from the trees surrounding them and Melisandre flinched at the visceral sound of two mighty blades meeting.

Jon swung Longclaw with every ounce of pent up rage and aggression he could muster, the Night King only blocking each strike with what could only be described as disinterest on his face. Jon understood how important killing the Night King was, as far as he knew if he killed the Night King then the army would fall.

It was the best chance to end the battle, and Jon had to take it.

Jon's ragged state did not make for the image that songs would tell of; his brigandine gone and dressed only in his sweat soaked tunic, the battle had taken its toll and the pure adrenaline rushing through his system was the only thing keeping Jon standing upright.

The Night King's movements were reserved as he adjusted his footwork with the skill of a master, making sure not to waste any energy on unnecessary attacks or manoeuvres. If Jon were not filled by hatred and rage, then he would have been impressed by the masterful movements of his opponent.

Jon's movements slowed and weakened with every new swing and lunge, the Night King was still fresh compared to the rough and ragged Jon. The lord of Winterfell now tired and beginning to lose what stamina he had saved for now.

One downward swing was batted away by the Night King's ice sword: the frozen blade planting the Valyrian steel of Longclaw into the bloodstained ground. The Night King then wrapped his free hand around Jon's neck.

The pain was instantaneous as the searing white hot chill began to burn. Jon had never felt a pain like this before, eagle claws, steel blades and ice-cold water were nothing compared to the icy touch of the Night King.

Blue ethereal eyes glared straight into Jon's soul as the Night King brought Jon's face closer to his. Jon grasped the Night King's wrist with one hand whilst bringing up Longclaw with the other; the Targaryen bringing the Valyrian blade up and driving it through the Night King's gut.

The cold steel edge of Longclaw didn't have any effect on the Lord of the Walkers as he didn't even flinch, Jon's eyes widened in fear, shock and searing pain as the cold chill began to creep up his face. The Raven-Haired Targaryen let out a long and shrill cry of pain as he was forced to relinquish his grip Longclaw and grasp the Night King's wrist with both hands.

The Night King's once neutral face turned into a scowl as he raised Jon from the floor, his feet dangled in the air; Jon squeezed his eyes shut in pain as his breathing became ragged and choked.

Jon's face began to chill, his beard hairs freezing solid as the icy chill creeped up his face, the air escaping his lungs as the Night King's grip tightened.

"STOP!"

The Night King turned sharply to see Bran, his eyes open and a look of fear on his face as he leaned forward. The young wolf's eyes full of concern for Jon as he gripped the arm rests of his wheelchair until his knuckles turned white.

After giving Jon one last disdainful look like he was the lowest scum, the Night King dropped him to the floor where he began to writhe and squirm in pain as the cold continued to spread.

The Night King looked at Longclaw; still protruding from his gut and without a word simply pulled it free and held it in both hands. A look that could be recognition flashed in the Night King's eyes before his face contorted into what could only be described as fury.

The Blade of Longclaw, the sword of House Mormont, was broken over the Night King's knee before the handle and broken tip were dropped besides Jon's quivering form.

"Stop…please" Bran begged as tears began to form in his eyes. The Night King slowly walked up to the young Stark and leaned over to him, one hand resting on the back of the wheelchair.

The Night King leaned into Bran's ear and after a few seconds passed he pulled back.

Bran's eyes had widened in shock and horror; what he had just heard had shocked him to his core.

"No…No…never" Bran gasped.

The Night King simply looked to one of his Walkers and nodded. The Walker approached Jon and held its Ice spear over him; ready to plunge it into flesh.

"STOP! Please..." Bran yelled, the Night King holding his hand up to the Walker, a signal to cease.

The Night King slowly smiled before offering his hand to Bran.

"…Alright" Bran's tears rolled down his face before he took the Night King's hand.

"NNNGH…AAAAGH!" Bran yelled in pain as he felt his forearm burn, the same forearm that the Night King had grasped before. He felt flesh and skin twist and turn and rearrange like he was being flayed by a knife of pure ice.

A few seconds of this pain passed before the Night King relinquished his grip on Bran's arm. A smile of satisfaction plastered across his icy visage as he slowly stood up…

And began to walk away.

The Night King passed Jon and the bodies of the Unsullied and Crannogmen as well as the desiccated remains of his own soldiers. The Night King approached one of the walls of the Godswood and placed his hand against the wall; ice slowly crawled up the stone wall and overtook it.

Within seconds the wall was frozen solid and began to creak and crack, where once was a wall of solid stone was now replaced with a fragile wall of fragile ice. One palm thrust from the Night King was all it took to completely shatter the wall.

But before the Night King had time to cross the wall; the ground beneath him shook.

The deep bass of a rumbling growl was hard to ignore, the Night King turned to see what could only be described as the angry visage of the Black dread. Drogon had small cuts littering his hide and his eyes burned like the fiery crucible of his ancestor.

The White Walkers held their weapons but instead of advancing on Drogon, chose to stand behind their King who simply glared back at the colossal black drake.

Drogon opened his maw with a roar that would have made Balerion proud; but that didn't move the Night King that simply stared right back at the Dragon with his eyes narrowed.

However, when the Night King held his hand up to Drogon, the dragon flinched.

Drogon still felt the faint freezing sensation he had felt when the Night King had touched his snout during battle, the Pavlovian pain still ringing within his mind as he recognised the very real danger of the being standing in front of him.

The Night King smirked as the area behind him became enshrouded in a harsh and damming blizzard; the wind's howling louder than Drogon's roars as the Walkers retreated into the frosty tundra.

The Night King simply smiled before he turned his back in the most blatant display of disrespect to the mighty Valyrian dragon.

And without a word, the Night King disappeared into the Winter shroud.

* * *

The battle within the walls raged on as the living fought against the dead, living wolves tearing at the Wights, Northerners and Southerners, Westerners and Essosi all fighting together in a desperate attempt to survive.

Lyle Crakehall found himself under the massive weight of an undead bear; its claw raking over his helmet and opening a gash around his left eye before the spear of Grey Worm found its mark in its head.

Jorah found himself fighting beside Free folk warriors as he and Tormund fought back to back. Giantsbane and Mormont fighting in an almost ironic battle for survival.

Ghost and Nymeria fought amongst the Wolves as they ripped and tore their way through any Wights that stood in their way. Direwolves desperate to make it to the Godswood, bolting past the crowds when a path was clear.

Sandor Clegane and Gendry Waters, hacking and slashing and snarling like beasts to try and stay alive against the seemingly endless hordes of the dead.

All seemed inevitable as the dead did not cease.

*SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!*

The tell-tale screech of a White Walker pierced through the air, ringing in the ears of every combatant on the field. Every single wight, both human and not stopped dead in their tracks, beasts unbarring their fangs and wights lowering their weapons.

Lyle Crakehall scrambled to his feet, a couple of Unsullied helping him right himself as he held Tusk in his hand as the air went still. The defenders of Winterfell all staring with wide eyes and bated breath as the Forces of the dead slowly began to back away, step by step retreating and…

Ignoring the living.

"What…in the seven hells?" Jorah panted as the Wights seemed to have lost all interest in the living and simply…abandoned Winterfell. All the snarling and growling undead beasts ceased their growling and simply scampered out of the broken open gate, all Wights of all shapes and sizes lumbering away into the blizzard that awaited them outside.

The defenders of Winterfell stood with mouths agape and hearts racing, sweat running down flesh and blood saturated with adrenaline. Wounds dripping fresh blood and minds slowly easing from panic but riddled with confusion.

It was if every single man and woman present had the same thought.

Did…did we…did we win?

Jaime however was the one man whose eyes widened further in realization, before any cheers or revelry was even considered he remembered what they had seen. He had seen the Night King pass by every single one of them and head towards the Godswood.

The Stark Boy, Bran.

"THE STARK BOY!" Jaime panicked and borderline sprinted towards the godswood. Northerners, Westerlanders, Essosi and Free Folk all following, not knowing yet if they had fought in vain. If their comrades had died for nought, if they had won the battle but lost the war.

* * *

Drogon growled defensively at the hole in the wall of the godswood before his attention was drawn to the skies above him; a familiar form descending into the surrounding area as a dragon of emerald scales landed close by.

Daenerys and Benjen leapt from the back of Rhaegal and upon inspection of the surrounding area, Daenerys' eyes could only be drawn to one place.

"JON!" Dany almost screamed as she dashed to her fallen love.

Jon was shivering almost violently as his teeth chattered and his fingers curled in sheer pain. His black beard now chilled white with frost and his eyes squeezed shut.

Dany cradled Jon in her lap, ignoring the chill she felt against his bare flesh as she began to panic.

"Jon! Jon what's happening?! What do I do?!" Daenerys panicked as she saw the ice crawling up his face.

Benjen knew what was happening, the icy touch of the Night King had taken hold.

"You know what must be done Daenerys" Bran called to the Dragon Queen.

Dany looked up, teary eyed at a now human looking Bran. Now clutching his forearm and tears running down his face Bran repeated himself.

"You know…what must be done. Only one fire can fight back the darkness" he repeated.

"What…I don't…I don't understand" Dany gasped in panic.

"You do…you've done it before…now Jon must feel it too…the fire within" Bran replied between pants.

Daenerys' eyes widened as she remembered the fight in the sky when the Night King had touched Drogon and she saw that same icy chill crawl across his flesh. Dragonfire was the only thing that had countered it, Drogon's fire, Valyrian light had fought back the darkness.

But Jon was not like her, if Drogon or Rhaegal drenched him in flame then he would be reduced to cinders, he would not survive.

Benjen put a hand on her shoulder.

"Only dragon fire can save him Daenerys"

"But…I can't…I can't" Daenerys stuttered in fear.

Hundreds of voices could be heard as the defenders of Winterfell came pouring into the Godswood, many looking with sheer shock at the sight of the bodies of Bran's protectors. The Crannogmen immediately rushing to Meera and Howland, a few Northmen and Gendry running over to check on Bran and Arya.

Melisandre's guards helped her to her feet as she passed the now stable Arya to the Northerners, the young wolf's consciousness slowly coming back as she leaned on Gendry's shoulder.

Benjen leaned into Daenerys once again.

"You must do this Daenerys…Jon has been half a man for too long…the Bastard must die…the King must be born" he whispered to her.

Daenerys had no reply to that as the Northerners approached Jon, many looking with shock when they noticed their lord and his sorry state.

"Stand back" Benjen said sternly to the Northerners that came too close to Jon and Daenerys.

"But milord! He needs a Maester!" one of the Stark Bannermen shouted.

"A Maester can't help him…now stand back!" Benjen's voice got louder as attention was drawn to him.

One of the Northern Lords, Lord Flint looked with disdain at Daenerys holding Jon in her arms, he thought Benjen had taken her side and was willing let his own nephew die so she could take the throne when he was dead.

"We aren't going to let him die now stand as..."

*TWACK!*

Benjen punched Flint so hard that he would probably have another black eye to match the one that Jon had already given him.

"YOU WILL ALL STAND BACK!" Benjen roared as he drew Dark Sister and ignited his flail.

What few Northerners still thought they could dissuade the Lone Wolf were quickly reminded of their place when faced with two growling Direwolves and two full grown Dragons right beside him.

Everyone stood back as Benjen ordered them, Nymeria padding over to Arya and Gendry, recognising her mistress' scent amongst the strangers. Ghost looking at his master and his mate before padding over towards a face he recognised in the crowd; Davos, who stood by with a look of confusion on his face.

"What's going on Lord Stark?" Davos asked as he approached Benjen.

"You will stand back Ser Davos…this must be done" Benjen pointed Dark Sister's tip at the Onion Knight.

"You…You are going to burn him…ARE YOU INSANE!?" Davos almost yelled.

"YOU WILL STAND BACK!" Benjen roared like a Direwolf, he couldn't hold them back for much longer.

Daenerys could see this; the situation was beginning to deteriorate and soon no matter how loud Benjen shouted or what weapon he bared he would be overtaken.

'_Please let this work'_ Daenerys looked up at Drogon and Rhaegal before breathing in slowly.

"Dracarys!"

Drogon and Rhaegal lifted their heads in synch and simultaneously brought their heads down, their maws open and out came two gouts of flame.

One Yellow with veins of Emerald Green and one Black as Midnight.

"JON! NO!" Davos screamed as he lunged only to be grabbed by Tormund, the Wilding not wanting to see the old smuggler throw himself into the crucible.

Every eye was turned to the two dragons unleash their flames upon Daenerys and Jon; the forms of the two rulers disappeared in the colourful display of yellow, green and black flame.

Arya barely had the strength to yell or cry, as she stared wide eyed at the display in front of her. Inside she was shattered like glass as she watched her brother disappear into the burning light of dragon fire.

Davos let out a hopeless sob as he felt his heart tear in two. In yet another cruel twist of fate he had witnesses another son die in fire.

The gathered men were already gasping in shock at what had transpired in front of them. Already concocting the ways, they would tell this to their children, of how the mad Dragon Queen had succumbed to madness and burned herself and the Lord of the North alive. A dark and tragic tale during what was supposed to be a victory, of how the Targaryens went extinct in the flames of their own dragons.

Melisandre, Benjen and Bran however looked with different eyes as the flames began to subside.

Silence fell when the fires subsided, only a small crackling of fire could be heard.

Not a single man or woman could look away from the sight in front of them.

Jon and Daenerys, alive and bared on the burnt ground. Daenerys' white dress and Jon's black tunic burnt away into ash and scattered to the wind.

Daenerys looked upon the face of the man she loved, and tears came to her eyes as she cupped his cheek. The smile on her face and the tears in her eyes couldn't be mistaken for anything other than pure unadulterated joy.

The icy touch of the Night King was gone, and Jon was alive.

Grey eyes slowly opened and gazed upon what could only be described as the heavenly visage of a Valyrian goddess as Jon had sworn, he had died and been taken to the highest of any heaven imaginable.

"Dany?" Jon whispered.

Daenerys didn't reply and instead brought her lips to Jon's, not caring about her state of nudity in front of every face in Winterfell. All that existed in this moment where herself and the man she loved with every ounce of her being.

That was until one sound echoed and broke the silence that cut through the air.

Metal impacting upon the ground.

Jon and Daenerys looked over to the gathered crowd and saw none other than Lyle Crakehall knelt in the snow, wide eyed in awe at the sight before him.

Another figure dropped to one knee, then another and another. Within seconds every single defender of Winterfell dropped to one knee in utter reverence to the sight they had seen before them.

Jaime dropped to one knee, something he never thought he would do again. His hope for a just ruler had died with Rhaegar…but it had been rekindled.

Melisandre smiled as she dropped to both knees, her guards dropping in reverence to what was before them. The Tales and teachings they had been led to believe now laid bare in front of them, reborn amidst Salt and smoke. The salt of freshly fallen tears and the smoke of Dragonfire.

Arya felt the tears running down her face as she hobbled forwards; Gendry supporting her before she broke off.

Benjen walked over to the now kneeling and ashamed Lord Flint and tore the fur cloak from his shoulders.

Davos took the cloak from his own shoulders and rushed over to the still prone Jon and Daenerys.

Benjen and Davos covered the young Targaryens, Davos laying his cloak around Jon whilst Benjen put Lord Flint's around Dany's shoulders.

"I don't…I don't believe it" Davos stuttered in awe as he looked upon the two.

The two young people he had once thought would make a great future for the realm, had become so much more than that. Every single defender that had witnessed the events that had just unfolded no longer saw a Bastard Lord and a Foreign Queen of a long dead house.

Where the Night King had left nought but death, destruction and darkness in his wake…Jon and Daenerys…had left one thing that everyone in Westeros needed to get through the Long Night.

Hope.

* * *

**The Battle of Winterfell is over...the Long Night...has only just begun.**

**I know…quite a lot to unpack there, may questions asked and many answers hinted at (I did promise that unlike D&D that the Long Night stuff and the Night King will be further elaborated upon)**

**Before you ask…yeah, Human Bran is back. The way I look at it is that since his transition into the Three Eyed Raven was rushed when he was unprepared it basically fucked his head up into turning him into a robot…tree…thing. **

**Remember, Bloodraven in the show said that Bran wasn't ready to become the Raven (and Bloodraven still had his emotions). What Bran needed was another Greenseer jolting his system back into working order, the Night King needs a Stark for what is coming…not a Tree in a wheelchair.**

**AS FOR JON, yeah, I know, before anyone comments "But Jon isn't unburnt, he burned himself in season 1" yes, I am aware of that. **

**BUT I counter with this reasoning, since that time Jon came back from the dead and bonded with one of the last 2 Valyrian Dragons birthed with magic. See his becoming Unburnt as a metamorphosis, notice I had Jon striped of his Stark armour in this chapter and had Longclaw broken…Metamorphosis guys; you'll see where I'm heading with this.**

**Yeah, I know the show fucked it up, but like I said in the very beginning of this story I want to prove that D&D COULD have made something somewhat good with what they already had.**

**Please let me know what you thought, Review, PM me your questions and queries. **

**Let me know what you thought! **

**ALSO, another important note, to any Star Wars/Sci-Fi fans amongst you guys, My Star Wars Prequel rewrite series is going under some BIG renovations so please give it a read and review when you have the time. Trust me, it will help pass the time in this ongoing Quarantine we are in. **

**Stay clean, Stay Safe and have a great day everyone.**

**Dakkaman777 OUT!**


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